


Always Will

by bcbdrums



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Adventure, Canon Compliant, Fix-It of Sorts, Friendship, Gen, Injury, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mind Meld, Missing Scene, No Slash, Plot, Prime Directive (Star Trek), T'hy'la, Telepathic Bond, Vulcan Mind Melds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-18 23:51:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 45,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8180546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bcbdrums/pseuds/bcbdrums
Summary: "Jim," Spock said, and the captain glanced up at him with an inquiring eye.  The Vulcan's eyes were fixed on the wall of the turbolift.   Seconds passed with each of Spock's breaths.  Suddenly, his hand darted to the override controls and the lift slid to a smooth halt.





	1. The Turbolift

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I don't think anyone is happy with the ending to "Amok Time." It feels unfinished for the weight of everything that went on. However most fics I've seen on the topic give too much weight to the wrong things, or illogical out-of-character responses. So if the cameras had kept rolling for five minutes, this is what I think would have gone down. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> I am considering turning this into a "missing scenes" series, so I'm leaving it marked as unfinished.

 

_"And where would you estimate we belong, Miss Keeler?"_

_"You, at his side, as if you've always been there and always will."_

 

* * *

 

 

"Come on Spock, let's go mind the store."  
  
Side by side and step for step they walked briskly through the corridors, the bright cleanliness of the ship a stark contrast to the ruddy sands of Vulcan below.  It was like returning home after being in some place outside of reality.  And if not for the slight ache at his throat Kirk might have wondered if it had happened at all.  
  
The crew stepped aside for them as they always did when the captain and first officer walked through the ship, but their eye contact this time was different.  Uncertain smiles, drawn brows, and wide-eyed glances are what met them instead of the smiles of respect and unabashed regard.  
  
Kirk knew that what had happened on the planet would remain between he and his two friends for all time, but his putting their orders into abeyance to satisfy something personal for his first officer was clearly known all over the ship.  Not to mention the plomeek soup incident.  
  
He didn't need to look up at Spock's face to know the man would be as cool as steel and serene as the stars.  He also wouldn't give his crew the impression that anything was out of the ordinary _by_ looking up at his first officer.    
  
Kirk held his head a bit higher and his shoulders relaxed as he let the entire affair wash past him.  His position had been vindicated by Vulcan authority, and more importantly his friend's life was no longer in jeopardy.  
  
Back to reality.  
  
Nevertheless, he couldn't yet shake a feeling that all was not right in his small corner of the galaxy.  
  
As they reached the turbolift two crewmembers literally parted the way for them, one of the women acknowledging with a pleasant "Captain," as she moved.  
  
"Crewman," he responded with his captain's air.  He saw her genuine smile as the doors closed behind them and with it came reassurance that all would be well on his ship.  
  
"Bridge," he ordered as he activated the turbolift.  He stopped himself short of looking up at Spock when he realized that behind the closed doors, in the privacy of the small tube his first officer's demeanor had changed.  His frame had shrunk, his fingers moved nervously at his sides, and his lips were parted as he took in silent, quick breaths.  
  
"Jim," Spock finally said, and the captain glanced up at him with an inquiring eye.  The Vulcan's eyes remained on the wall of the lift.  The seconds passed with each of Spock's breaths.  
  
Suddenly, Spock's hand darted to the override controls and the turbolift slid to a smooth halt between decks two and one.  
  
"Jim," he said again, this time turning his gaze.  
  
Kirk slowly crossed his arms in front of him and looked up in mock confusion.  
  
"Spock?"  
  
The facade of calm had slipped, and from the slight incline of his head and the brightness of his eyes Kirk knew that his friend was in conflict.  Exactly how to address it was paramount.  
  
Spock didn't speak again.  As they regarded each other Kirk watched how with each breath the Vulcan seemed to struggle more against whatever illogical thought was in his mind.  And among many possibilities, Kirk knew what was most likely.  He uncrossed his arms and relaxed his stance.  
  
"How about a game of chess in my quarters later, Spock?" he said with his most open smile, no captain's airs whatsoever motivating him.  
  
Spock blinked, as if finally returning to reality himself.  Slowly his posture straightened and his face began to relax into its usual ease.  
  
"That...would be—"  
  
"And don't even think about getting out of it.  I want to continue my winning streak."  
  
With one more blink Spock was back.  He looked down at his captain with a fondness and gratitude only Kirk could recognize.  
  
"You may try, Jim."  
  
Their rapport continued in silence, the captain smiling up at his friend with his whole being.  Kirk had once heard it said about himself that he could charm the stars out of the heavens, but he had no ulterior motive when he looked at his friend.  And under such unbridled emotion Spock finally averted his gaze, seemingly embarrassed as the corners of his mouth most certainly curled upward.  
  
Time passed slowly through their silent communication until a soft _'beep'_ alerted them that someone else wanted to use the turbolift.  
  
Kirk lifted his hand to the controls, but a shift in Spock's demeanor gave him pause.  The peace in his eyes had been darkened by doubt again.  The Vulcan's eyes were on his, questioning, and impetuously Kirk reached forward and took hold of his friend's wrist as he had days ago.  This time it was steady and cool, the pulse within strong and unhurried.  
  
Spock slightly lifted his brow in question.  
  
"Spock..." Kirk said, shaking his head slightly, "it's over.  It's done.  For me, it's done!" he insisted softly.  
  
"Jim...Captain," Spock said, also shaking his head.  
  
"Spock...I promise you.  It's done."  
  
The last was said with authority as well as compassion.  Spock sighed silently, but Kirk barely breathed as he waited for his own reassurance now that he realized the depth to which his friend had been affected.  
  
The _'beep'_ sounded again and Spock glanced to the controls, but Kirk only tightened his hold on Spock's wrist.  
  
"We can talk it over during chess if you want," he finally offered, not wanting to risk the emotional stalemate that could go on for days if he made the wrong moves now.  
  
Something like indecision rested heavy in Spock's eyes, and his gaze was on the wall over Kirk's shoulder.  The captain felt his own heart rate begin to increase in worry but just as suddenly as before, the Vulcan seemed to arrive at a conclusion and he looked back at Kirk with an expression as close to his usual calm and control as the captain had seen in days.  
  
"If you wish it.  However, it...is not necessary."  
  
Kirk breathed an audible sigh of relief and felt the tension go out of his shoulders.  "Maybe...we should decide that when we get there."  He was not nearly as confident as he had been before they stepped into the turbolift.  
  
Spock lifted a brow.  "Indeed."  
  
The _'beep'_ sounded for the third time, followed immediately by the comm's whistle.  Neither man moved to answer it.  
  
Kirk breathed deep and like the fresh uniform he wore, called new authority into his voice.  "Our ship is waiting."  
  
For a moment he thought he saw indecision in Spock's eyes.  But then the Vulcan surprised him by turning his own hand over and holding Kirk's wrist with matching strength.  Kirk glanced down to see his friend's fingers holding firmly onto the gold braid of his uniform.  
  
"Yes, Jim."  
  
Before Kirk could react, Spock started the lift with his other hand and seconds later the doors opened onto the bridge.  Staring into his first officer's face Kirk found suddenly he couldn't read the man.  Reluctantly, he let go of his friend's wrist and Spock did likewise.  
  
Kirk stepped onto the bridge and paused on the threshold.  He felt Spock step out and stand next to him, nearly shoulder-to-shoulder.  The doors slid closed behind them.  
  
The bridge officers weren't nearly so coy as the rest of the crew, and several sets of questioning eyes were fixed on the command officers.  The two men glanced at each other, and then with unified authority they took their places.  The atmosphere around them was thick and tense, filled with uncertainty.  At least here, Kirk knew he could set things right.  
  
"Ensign, what is our status?" he said, leaning back in his chair.  
  
"We are on a direct course to the Altair system travelling at warp six," Chekov replied mechanically.  
  
Kirk took another quick survey of everyone's faces as he swiveled to face the science station.  
  
"Commander, how long until we arrive at Altair VI at our present speed?"  
  
"Three-point-two light days, Captain."  
  
"Will we make it in time for the inauguration?" he asked, turning his mind back to the mission.  
  
"No, Sir."  
  
"Will increasing our speed get us there in time?"  
  
"We would need to sustain warp eight-point-two," Spock replied immediately.  
  
Kirk looked back over his shoulder.  "Lieutenant Uhura, inform Mr. Scott that he's going to have to give us warp eight-point-two or better."  
  
"He won't be too happy about that, Sir," she said with a knowing smile.  
  
Kirk returned the gesture and relaxed further into the chair.  Wonderful, steady Uhura...  "If he wants to complain...remind him it's his job."  
  
As he swiveled around to front he caught the grins of his helmsman and navigator before they hurriedly turned back to their stations.  He looked to the other stations and saw only the faithful regard of his officers.  The bridge felt ordered and light once again.  
  
"Mr. Sulu, increase speed to warp eight-point-two."  
  
"Aye-aye, Sir."  
  
Soft footsteps alerted him to Spock's sudden, unnecessary presence at his side.  
  
"Now departing Vulcan star system," Spock announced in monotone.  
  
Kirk glanced up at his first officer.  His face was impassive, staring straight ahead at the distortion of the stars on the viewscreen.  But his message had been received loud and clear.  
  
"Thank you Mr. Spock," he replied quietly.  
  
There was no response, but after a moment Spock lifted his hand to rest it on the arm of the command chair.  
  
Kirk decided now that he agreed with Spock, further discussion wasn't necessary.

 

 


	2. The Chess Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He folded his hands in his lap and sat back in the chair. "Jim," he began.  
> Kirk looked over at him, his face hard but his eyes bright. He had been waiting for this. Needed this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, the previous chapter was written as a one-shot, but a continuation seemed to be in order. So I just started writing and let this flow out... I did not expect it to go where it went at all! Hope you enjoy!

 

 

"Check," Kirk said loudly, and Spock looked up from his hands.  
  
He had not seemed remotely focused on the game and looked at the board now with something of surprise.  
  
Through the course of the evening few words had passed between them.  There was the initial offer of drink, the later offer to replenish when the first had run out, and one slight attempt at banter on Kirk's part that was met with no response whatsoever.  
  
It worried him.  
  
He was content to allow Spock to work through whatever he was struggling with on his own, and was gratified that his friend seemed to want to do said soul-searching in his presence.  However, after two hours his patience was beginning to wane.  
  
"That's three times in the last half-hour," he added, noting Spock's glassy-eyed expression.  
  
The Vulcan didn't react as he studied the board.  Kirk clenched his jaw to keep himself from saying something unnecessary.  He would not do Spock the dishonor of trying to pry anything out of him.  
  
His eyes wandered to his empty cup and Spock's full one of now-cold tea.  Perhaps he should offer to get another one...  
  
His thoughts were broken by the whistle of the comm.  
  
"McCoy to Spock," was the voice that followed.  Kirk's brow rose, Spock's did not.  Of course, it would have been no hard deduction that Spock was in the captain's quarters.  
  
After a moment, Spock answered the call.  
  
"Spock here.  What is it, Doctor?"  
  
Kirk's brow rose higher.  Annoyance?  
  
"Please report to sickbay."  
  
"For what purpose?"  
  
There was the slightest of pauses from the doctor.  "Is Jim with you?"  
  
Spock met Kirk's eyes.  
  
"I'm here," Kirk answered.  
  
"I think you'd rather we talk privately," McCoy said to Spock.  
  
Kirk's brow climbed ever higher and still there was no reaction from Spock.  Except perhaps a further slump of his shoulders, the captain noticed.  
  
He expected Spock to make his usual protestation of visiting the medical bay, or a comment to the nature of speaking freely in front of him.  But instead Spock simply stood up.  
  
"I'm on my way," he said, and closed the channel.  
  
Kirk stiffened in surprise as he watched his friend walk to the door, hands clasped behind his back.  
  
"Spock!" he said, and his first officer turned back.  
  
Kirk had no idea what to say.  "...Would you like another cup of tea?"  
  
Spock looked at the cold cup on the desk.  "Yes Captain," he said, and exited the room.  
  
Kirk slumped back in his chair with a sigh.

 

* * *

  
  
Spock entered sickbay and did not see Dr. McCoy.  He inquired as to his presence from the duty nurse and she told him he was waiting for him in his office.  At this, Spock's brow rose in surprise.  Usually when summoned to sickbay he was immediately forced into an examination with at least two of the doctor's staff in attendance.  Apparently he had been truthful when he said their meeting would be private.  
  
He was surprised again to find McCoy's office closed.  Usually the doctor kept his door open due to something he said once about being a "people-person" that Spock would have found logical but for the emotional reason.  
  
He buzzed at the door and it was opened to him.  
  
"Come in and sit down, Spock," McCoy said, and Spock sat stiffly in the chair opposite the doctor's desk.  
  
McCoy regarded him not with amusement or frustration as he usually did, but if he was reading the emotions correctly the doctor looked concerned if not pitying.  Rather than heighten Spock's curiosity, it made him force everything out of his mind that he had been thinking about since they left Vulcan.  
  
"What is the purpose of your summons, Doctor?" Spock asked stiffly.  His face was a blank mask as he spoke, his eyes as hollow as an android's.  
  
McCoy sighed.  "I want to run some tests on you Spock, to measure the rate at which your body chemistry is restoring itself—"  
  
"Then why are we not in the examination room?" Spock interrupted.  
  
"But I decided that can wait until morning.  What can't wait is your emotional state—"  
  
"Emotions are foreign to me Doctor, as you well know, therefore—"  
  
McCoy brought his palm down hard on the desktop.  "Your psychological state then!"  
  
Spock rose to leave, but McCoy quickly stepped into his path.  The Vulcan fixed his eyes on the wall above the doctor's head and held his body stiff in what McCoy recognized as his most defensive posture.  
  
"When I watched you up on the bridge tonight you put on a convincing performance.  Every time Jim looked at you, you were as cool and collected as any Vulcan.  But as soon as you thought he couldn't see you everything about your demeanor changed.  Your head bowed, your hands fidgeting—Spock you're showing signs of severe anxiety, and I'm telling you—"  
  
"Doctor—"  
  
"Listen to me!" McCoy hissed.  "You, as Jim's friend, can't do that to him!  Do you have any idea what he did for you?"  
  
Spock's eyes met McCoy's with ferocity.  "Have you forgotten Doctor that if not for your interference he would be dead by my hand?"  
  
"Spock, he was _willing_ to die.  But you already know that.  He's been willing to die for you before.  And you for him—"  
  
"Your point, Doctor?" Spock said harshly, but McCoy could see he was starting to break through.  
  
"We were days from Vulcan when he finally changed course.  Against orders!  He sacrificed his career and had time to think about it afterward, and never once thought of turning back.  If not for your government's interference, the _Enterprise_ would probably be on its way to pick up a new captain."  
  
McCoy watched as the obsidian left Spock's eyes.  Through the increasing struggle of his condition he clearly had failed to consider the fullness of what diverting to Vulcan meant for their mission and for Kirk personally.  
  
McCoy pressed further.  "Now...I don't suppose you're surprised by this, but you can't go on making Jim worry that your friendship is somehow changed because of everything that's happened."  
  
Spock focused on him again.  "He is already aware that nothing has changed."  
  
"Are you sure?  Have you talked about it?" McCoy accused.  
  
Spock didn't answer.  
  
"Just because _you're_ not affected by emotions doesn't mean that he isn't.  You've got to let him know, without question."  
  
"We spoke briefly on the subject when we returned to the bridge today."  
  
"And did Jim seem satisfied with that discussion?"  
  
"He did," Spock told the half-truth.  
  
McCoy crossed his arms and looked at Spock with a calculating air.  
  
"In that case, he's as good a performer as you are.  Because I watched him on the bridge too.  And when he thought you weren't looking he looked as worried and anxious as you did."  
  
Spock's brow furrowed.  
  
"So...just get on back up there," McCoy said, stepping aside and waving Spock toward the door, "and however you two work out your personal problems get it done.  I don't want either of you in here again except for friendly visits."  
  
Spock stepped through the door with McCoy following thoughtfully after him, but halfway to the main exit Spock stopped.  
  
"Doctor, you may run your tests now," he said and stepped over to the exam table.  
  
McCoy narrowed his eyes suspiciously.  "Are you volunteering yourself for a physical examination?"  
  
"Affirmative, Doctor."  
  
McCoy stepped up and looked at him intently for several seconds before responding.  "You're not trying to get out of talking to Jim?"  
  
"No.  The captain is making me a cup of tea.  It would be inappropriate to not return."  
  
Another moment passed before McCoy shrugged and waved a hand that Spock should step onto the upright exam table.  He did so, but hesitated before leaning back.  The doctor turned to call the nurse into the room but was stopped by a soft touch on his forearm.  He turned in surprise to see Spock looking at him intently.  
  
"McCoy," he said.  
  
"Yes, Spock?"  
  
The Vulcan hesitated, but then took a deep breath and dropped his hand and leaned back against the table.  "Thank you.  For saving Jim's life."  
  
Slowly, McCoy smiled.  "I only wish I could have helped you as easily."

 

* * *

  
  
Kirk paced the length of his quarters, having thrown out yet another cup of tea.  The newest one sat steaming on the edge of the desk along with a cup for himself.  No more coffee that evening—he was wired enough on his own—and McCoy had said no alcohol for a couple of days.  But the way the evening was going he found himself yearning for a glass of brandy to steady his nerves.  
  
He had thought that everything between he and Spock was fine, but his friend's brooding all evening now had him concerned.  And being called away to talk to McCoy privately didn't help.  His only consolation was that he'd promised to return.  
  
Just then his door chime sounded, and too quickly and too loudly he said, "Come."  
  
The door slid open and revealed Spock looking entirely like himself, hands clasped behind his back and his face serene.  
  
"Is everything all right, Captain?" he asked.  
  
Kirk realized his anxiety had grown in his first officer's absence—in fact it was the only time they'd been apart all day—and he willed himself to calm down.  
  
"Yes...yes, Spock, everything's fine.  Come in."  
  
Spock walked to the desk and smoothly sat in the chair, immediately lifting the steaming cup of tea to his lips.  He looked at Kirk questioningly over the top of the cup.  
  
"You, uh...were gone a long time."  
  
"Doctor McCoy wanted to run some tests to measure the rate at which my body chemistry restores to normal," he offered as explanation.  
  
"Of course..." Kirk said dumbly, walking over to his chair and pausing next to it.  
  
Spock sipped the tea again before setting it down and looking at the chess board.  
  
"Your move, Captain?" he asked.  
  
"No actually, I believe it's yours..." Kirk said.  
  
Spock glanced up at him, and then back to the board.  "I suppose it is..."  
  
Kirk sat slowly, watching Spock, who was looking at the chess board with more focus than he had all evening.  
  
Several minutes passed, and Kirk drank about half of his tea.  Spock finally moved a pawn.  
  
Kirk studied the pieces, and now Spock watched his face.  McCoy's words of earlier came back to him:  
  
_You've got to let him know, without question._  
  
He folded his hands in his lap and sat back in the chair.  "Jim," he began.  
  
Kirk looked over at him, his face hard but his eyes bright.  He had been waiting for this.  Needed this.  
  
"I believed you."  
  
Kirk's brow furrowed ever so slightly, the starship captain's mask firmly in place.  
  
"Earlier, in the turbolift.  When you said the incident was over."  
  
Slowly, cautiously, Kirk's face began to relax.  "Then, why—?"  
  
"I regret...many of the actions I have taken, and plans that I made in secret."  
  
Kirk looked confused, but Spock waved it off with a slight gesture.  
  
"But moreso I find myself...struggling with the nature of the loss of control.  I do not..." he looked down, "ever again wish to be in a position where my involuntary actions will put someone at risk."  
  
Kirk's whole being softened and he relaxed back into his chair, a smile on his face.  He didn't respond for a moment, the warmth of what Spock hadn't said washing over him.  
  
"But Spock, that's the point.  You weren't in control.  You weren't yourself."  
  
"I knew I had to kill to survive.  And despite knowing it was you I would have to kill, I still took part."  
  
Kirk rubbed his chin thoughtfully and crossed his legs.  "Spock...you've heard the expression, 'we're only human?'"  
  
Spock nodded.  
  
"Well...you're only Vulcan," he said, opening his hands in front of him.  "As we both know, you can only deny so much of your biology, just as I can only deny so much of mine.  We're not perfect beings, Spock, either of us.  You can't hold yourself responsible for that."  
  
Spock folded his hands beneath his chin and rested his elbows on the desk, and Kirk mirrored the gesture.  The Vulcan regarded Kirk with a thoughtful hesitation, while the captain held his breath behind his smile, willing his friend to accept what was and move on.  
  
Nearly a minute passed and Kirk finally dipped his head in an effort to hide his emotions.  He couldn't tell now what Spock was thinking and it was driving him mad.  At least, he felt sure that Spock knew where _he_ stood and apparently had known since the turbolift.  
  
He turned his eyes to the chessboard and reached over to make a move.  
  
Spock's eyes followed Kirk's hand to the board and back again when he returned it to its place beneath his chin.  The man in gold let his breath out with measured slowness.  
  
When he looked up this time he had let the mask fall and left himself open to whatever Spock would give him next.  His eyes were sparkling pools, hoping, questioning, and sad.

All for him?  
  
_You've got to let him know, without question._  
  
Spock couldn't resist.  
  
Leaning further in, he reached a hand across the desk toward Kirk's face.  
  
For a moment, Kirk was confused and then jerked back with wide eyes.  
  
Spock's brow rose in surprise.  "I believe Jim, that this will facilitate better communication between us.  You must admit neither of us are very perspicuous at the moment."  
  
"No we're not..." Kirk conceded, but he hadn't told Spock that mind melds always made him uneasy.  And to be part of one...  "What exactly...would happen?"  
  
"Individuals participating in a mind meld retain their individuality while also being able to think as one.  An expression you might use is, 'seeing through the other's eyes.'"  
  
Looking at Spock's finally open expression made Kirk's decision for him.  After all, he wanted Spock to trust him.  How could he not reciprocate?  
  
Slowly Kirk nodded and rested his forearms on the desk.  
  
"Relax, Jim," Spock said, and Kirk realized he was holding his breath.  
  
Cool fingertips pressed into his face firmly, but not forcefully.  He kept his eyes open and stared into Spock's.  And moments later, he knew Spock could read his every thought.  
  
_"Is nothing private here?"_  
  
_"Do not think about what you wish to be kept hidden."_  
  
In the answer Kirk felt an emotion—disappointment, sadness.    
  
_"Yes, it is here when joined with another mind that Vulcans cannot suppress all emotion."_  
  
Then, Spock was admitting...  _"I'm sorry.  I didn't intend to hurt you."_  
  
_"As you said before Jim, we cannot surpass the natures of our respective species.  Mind melds are inherent to mine.  You need not fear for me."_  
  
Kirk wasn't immediately used to the oneness as Spock clearly was, and he tried to focus not on himself, but on his friend.  And he knew instantly—fear, desperation, shame, despair, anxiety.  
  
_"This is what you went through..."_  
  
Kirk felt Spock's hesitation.  _"...Only in part."_  
  
Kirk pulled for the rest and Spock didn't hide it.  His alternative solution was shocking. But the gradual loss of control into madness was terrifying.  Kirk's eyes widened on Spock's.  
  
_"Do you see what I could not explain?  No Vulcan can."_  
  
_"Yes.  I see.  I hope I responded...appropriately."_  
  
The ensuing peace Kirk felt was answer enough, but Spock spoke to his mind anyway.  
  
_"No one could have been more respectful."_  
  
Kirk felt it was his duty to return the trust and took himself through his memories.  His worry, confusion, reluctance, and fear once he knew the truth.  
  
_"Jim...if anything were to remove me from the_ Enterprise _you would still function as an excellent captain."_  
  
But Spock knew then that Kirk wouldn't want to.  That he had become inexplicably entwined with Kirk, despite all odds.  Despite the differences in their species, despite differences in their personal philosophies, he had become knit to Kirk's heart.  He focused on Kirk's eyes and saw it there—powerful and deep, he knew it though he had never known it before.  
  
_"Is this...something that all humans experience?"_  
  
_"If they're lucky...  Spock if this is too much emotion you can stop."_  
  
But Spock wanted to know more.  Not just about this new aspect of humanity he had discovered, but about the ceremony itself, and what Kirk had felt then.  
  
Fear, pain, desperation.  Self-preservation.  But absolutely no thought of killing.  
  
_"You could not have survived without killing me."_  
  
_"I couldn't kill you Spock."_  
  
_"And after I...killed you?"_  
  
Spock's expression was drawn in pain and sorrow.  Kirk wondered what his face looked like.  And then to his shock, he could see himself as if through a mirror—his eyes equally sorrowed, but also radiating love.  He cast his mind back into the moments after the darkness...  
  
_**He could only see black, and his head hurt.  He felt hot for some reason.  And when he opened his eyes he threw his arm over his face to block out the blinding light of sickbay.  And then he remembered.**_  
  
_**"Spock!" he cried, sitting up and looking around.**_  
  
_**"Now you lie back Jim and just rest a moment, your body's had quite a shock."**_  
  
_**"Bones, where's Spock!?  All I remember is blacking out while he was choking me."**_  
  
_**"Yeah, well, I had more to do with you blacking out than he did," McCoy said.**_  
  
_**"What do you mean?"**_  
  
_**"That hypo I gave you wasn't tri-ox.  It was a neural paralyzer.  It knocked you out before Spock could actually kill you."**_  
  
_**Kirk's eyes went wide in disbelief.**_  
  
_**"And the rest of those pointed-eared traditionalists bought it.  We're home free," McCoy said with a smile.**_  
  
_**Kirk frowned and rubbed at his neck.  "Is Spock all right?"**_  
  
_**"Well, physically from what I could see..." his smile faded.  "But I had to let him think he killed you, Jim."**_  
  
_**"Oh..." Kirk gasped.  "How long has it been?"**_

_**"Only about ten minutes."** _

_**Kirk frowned.  "So he's staying down there with his bride?"**_  
  
_**"He said he was beaming back—"**_  
  
_**At that moment the comm whistled, and the transporter room announced that Spock was on his way to sickbay.**_  
  
_**"You'd better let me talk to him first.  He seemed pretty broken up."**_  
  
_**Despite himself, Kirk lay back on the bed again and closed his eyes against the headache of the drug.  He tried to process the whirlwind of the experience he'd had on Vulcan.  Would Spock stay there with his bride now?  Would he resign from Starfleet all together?**_  
  
_**In the other room he heard the door open and his friend's muted voice.  Spock was alive...  That was all that mattered.  He got up and went to his friend.**_  
  
Kirk realized he had closed his eyes during the memory and opened them again.  Spock's eyes were now wide with wonder amid the pain.  
  
_"You thought..."_  
  
_"Only of you.  Of course, Spock."_  
  
_"Vulcans don't...  I don't know...how to process these emotions."_  
  
Spock looked like he was in some pain.  _"I'm sorry."_  
  
_"No, Jim.  I am not hurt, I am...overwhelmed."_  
  
_"Do you want to stop?  Is there anything more?"_  
  
Kirk felt Spock's hesitation again.  _"Do_ you _wish to know more?"_  
  
Kirk hadn't seen the memories of the fight through Spock's eyes, but he didn't need to.  He trusted Spock completely when he said he trusted him.  It was done.  There were no doubts between them, nor now even any secrets.  
  
_"Then...there is one thing, I would have you know."_  
  
Kirk was curious, and then suddenly was flooded with a warmth and joy he had never known.  Love.  Not attraction, not fascination, and not fleeting.  And to his amazement he knew, he _knew_ , that despite human emotionalism and Vulcan sobriety, despite a clash of cultural views, that he had become entwined with Spock and inexplicably knit to his heart.  
  
He focused his eyes on his friend's and saw it there, just as he felt it and knew it in his soul.  
  
"Spock..." he whispered.

 _"T'hy'la..."_  
  
Suddenly, the oneness was gone.  Spock's fingers had left his face and he was left with an adrenaline rush in place of the new emotions he had just experienced.  He watched across the desk as his friend physically gasped for control as he always did after a mind meld.  His own heart was pounding within his chest.  
  
"You see," Spock said hoarsely, "why we suppress our emotions.  They are too powerful, too...uncontrollable, when released."  
  
Kirk reached across the desk and held his friend's wrist.  
  
Mere moments later Spock was in control again, and he looked at Kirk with a single raised brow.

"Why did you not tell me you feared for me when I meld?"

"I guess, because...fear is illogical?" Kirk said, his heart still pounding.  He wondered how Spock could be in control again so quickly after such an experience.

"Vulcans are a telepathic species.  Melding is normative behavior."  _With other Vulcans..._ Spock didn't add.  He in fact knew of extremely few Vulcans who melded outside of their species.

"Then...in that case..." Kirk began, but averted his eyes.  He couldn't get his heart to stop pounding.  He felt like he was shaking, but his hand on Spock's wrist appeared steady to his eyes.

"Jim?"

"Could we do that again?"

Both of Spock's brows rose this time.

"I've...I've never experienced anything like that before," Kirk said, shaking his head with wonder.

Suddenly, Spock looked hesitant.  Kirk worried.  Was exposure to his emotional mind a strain or an offense to his Vulcan friend?  Was he alone in the splendor and transcendency of the meld?  Except, Spock had said he wanted to show him something...

"I heard something.  You said something.  Just before it was over...  Why did you stop?" the questions poured out of him before he could think to stop himself.  He let go of Spock's wrist and backed away from the desk, hanging his head in shame.  "I'm sorry, I...  I don't like seeing you do this because it always looks like you're right on the edge of...losing something of yourself.  And I can't help you.  If you get lost in some telepathic place and I can't reach you...  And now I'm asking you to do it again," he said, one acerbic laugh leaving his throat as he stared at his fists in his lap.

Spock didn't answer, and Kirk felt his pulse finally beginning to slow.  He sighed shakily and hoped he hadn't just undone years of hard-earned professional and personal trust.

"Forgive me," he rasped finally, and closed his eyes.

In the ensuing silence he could hear the low hum of the warp engines, carrying them to Altair VI.  His command suddenly seemed far away in the face of losing the person who was most important to him.  But, he remembered, even if he lost Spock's friendship, the man was still alive.  He didn't regret what had occurred on Vulcan that day, nor would he wish a different outcome if McCoy hadn't been so quick-thinking.  And he was grateful that in the brief meld—oh, what joy in the oneness!—that he'd been able to communicate that to Spock.

Finally, he heard Spock stand.  But instead of footsteps leading toward the door, they came around to his side of the desk.

He turned his chair and looked up, his expression guarded, questioning, and sad.

Spock knelt in front of him, his gaze steady and resolute.

Kirk let out a silent gasp as Vulcan fingers moved to his face again.  Spock's other hand blindly sought one of Kirk's as they stared at each other, and when he found it Kirk held on as if it were his lifeline.  And then he slid fluidly back into the oneness.

This time, it was different.

In sudden crashing waves the joy, the love washed over him in shameless ferocity and purity.  He couldn't speak.  And if he had he didn't think he could find any words.  All he could do was feel his friend's heart, pouring into his.  Truth, confidence, loyalty, and passion.  Things he had known were within his friend but that could never be revealed except in the subtle, disguised turn-of-phrase or a wordless glance.

Kirk remembered his fear then, that melding would strip Spock of who he was.  That the vulnerability would become permanent and the wonderful, perfect Vulcan he called friend would be lost.  It pained him to think of it, and he used that pain to push back against the white waves of joy.  He couldn't let Spock do it.

_Jim...t'hy'la..._

_No...I don't want you to lose yourself!_

Somehow the words flowed amidst the swirling waves that were now coloring red and growing murky in his mind's eye.  He realized suddenly that in the oneness he was still retaining his individuality as Spock had said they would.  With effort he focused his vision on Spock's face and saw in his dark eyes the sadness and yearning and hopelessness that he'd seen only one other time, when an alien virus had threatened them all.

_And what of what I want?_

_You don't want to tangle yourself in my emotions.  It's not safe for you here!_

_Where could I be safer than with one who would give his life for mine?_

The logic impressed itself unrelentingly against Kirk's mind and the panic he'd felt began to subside.  The waves shimmered blue now, the happiness washing around them still as Kirk felt a measure of calm and control return to him.  He looked again at the expression on Spock's face and without words asked the question.

_My own illogical fear..._

_That I wouldn't want this?  Oh, Spock..._

Hints of pink and gold glistened at the edges of the waves.  Interesting, that emotions seemed to be represented by color.

Somehow, he was learning to maneuver within the ocean of the meld and tried to send thought without words.  The waves rapidly became white again and the overwhelming joy flowed over him afresh.  And he knew it was washing over Spock too.  Flowing out of the rivers of each of their minds and merging into the great sea that was the oneness—that was them.

The hopelessness had left Spock's eyes and was replaced with a warmth that Kirk had been permitted to see so few times before.  Now it shone back at him in blinding clarity.

He wanted more.

Suddenly, flecks of green appeared amid the rapturous white.

_What's wrong?_

_You were correct before..._

_No!_   Violent red splashes.

 _Do not fear._   Calming blue.

_I don't want this to end...  I want you here, always._

Swirls of an almost-black purple came up from out of the depths.  Kirk realized that where all had been oneness before there was now a wall between him and some of Spock's thoughts.

_I will explain but you must release me._

_I would never hurt you._

_I know, t'hy'la._

Instead of the sharp break like before, this time the waves gradually receded until they were a calm, warm tide on an endless shore.  Kirk was aware of Spock's mind withdrawing from the ocean and as it happened his thoughts became focused again on the physical world.  He watched Spock's face, so utterly open before, relax into what Kirk considered normal for the Vulcan.  Stoic, calm, but his eyes saying just a bit more.

And then Spock's hand slowly drew back from his face.  Kirk still held his other hand clasped between both of his.

He held on as they stood together, their eyes anchored to each other's.  Kirk realized his pulse wasn't elevated this time, and was surprised.

"You were correct before, Captain—" Kirk started at the sudden formality, "—that there is a danger to the mind meld."

"I'm listening," Kirk said with a nod, and wondered again at his own calm.

"It is possible, for one to become so deeply entwined with another mind that it is impossible to break free.  That the two become one permanently, a composite mind, unable to think separately.  Any beings involved would go mad before inevitably dying."

Kirk nodded slowly, finally lowering his gaze.  Somehow he knew instinctively that's what could happen.  And he wouldn't let it happen to Spock.

"How can I know if you're in danger of this?" he asked, gripping his friend's hand tighter.

Spock hesitated.  "You will know."

Kirk didn't find that sufficient, but knew Spock would have been more specific if he could have.  He had no choice but to accept it.

He suddenly felt Spock return the tight grip on his hand and looked up to see a gentle smile in his friend's eyes.

Kirk glanced away briefly, inexplicably embarrassed.  He wondered why in the ocean of their minds it was so easy to be free, but back in reality things were the same.

Except that they weren't.

Spock placed his free hand atop Kirk's, and the captain looked back up with a quiet smile of his own.

"There was a word, you kept saying it," Kirk said, taking a deep breath.

"Yes," Spock acknowledged, letting go of Kirk's hands and putting his calmly behind his back.  Kirk held his in fists at his sides.

"I thought in our minds...everything would translate.  This didn't."

Spock nodded slightly.  "The meaning is too...deep.  There is no direct translation of the word to Standard.  And it is rarely used."

Kirk waited.  Spock was not forthcoming.  
  
"What is it?" he said a bit impatiently.  
  
"T'hy'la."  
  
"...T'hy'la?" Kirk repeated carefully.  
  
"Yes."

Compared to the meld, Spock was like a closed book.  But the meld had emboldened Kirk.  He narrowed his gaze and kept pressing.

"You have an excellent grasp of both Vulcan and Federation Standard.  How would you translate it, Spock?"

The Vulcan's eyes dropped momentarily and he shuffled his feet once.  Embarrassment?

"It most clearly translates to...'brother of my heart.'"  
  
The light dawned.  Slowly, gently,  Kirk smiled.  "That would seem...an accurate translation Spock, if I recall your use of the word correctly."  
  
"Indeed."  
  
Kirk picked up his cup of tea and frowned when he saw it was cold again.  
  
"Both Scotty and Bones will have a fit about my food synthesizer.  I'll get us some more tea and we can finish this game," he said, picking up both cups.  
  
"Unnecessary, Jim."  
  
Kirk looked at Spock as he reached past him and moved a piece on the chess board.  
  
"Checkmate."

 

 


	3. The Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Jim?"  
> The plaintiveness of that single word, his friend's brow drawn in worry, was more than enough to break Kirk. He pushed his fists into the table as he leaned forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I've decided what to do with this fic.
> 
> Many people in fandom like the idea of Kirk and Spock having a permanent mental link. Roddenberry's novel of TMP enforces that, and there is evidence onscreen in TOS (see The Immunity Syndrome and you will be convinced). So I've decided this fic will be a look at the progression of the mental link.

 

 

"Come," Kirk said, not looking up from the report he was writing at his desk.  
  
As he finished the sentence he was penning he could see the tips of toes out of the corner of his eye, waiting at a respectful distance.  Despite the boots being regulation and identical to every other pair of boots worn by his crew, he could tell by the perfect distribution of weight and the near-attention positioning of the feet exactly who wanted a word with him.  
  
"What can I do for you, Mr. Spock?" he said as he signed his name at the bottom of the report and prepared to enter it into the computer.  
  
"I...am hoping you can answer a question for me, Captain," the voice sounded lightly.  
  
Kirk closed his eyes briefly, and then continued with logging the report.  
  
"What question is that?"  
  
Kirk peripherally saw the boots adjust to a slightly wider stance.  
  
"On the subject of human nature," Spock continued.  
  
Kirk checked on his monitor that the report had been fully processed and proceeded to attach his relevant log entries before sending it to Starfleet Command.  
  
"Why is it that some humans inject humor into situations where none is warranted?"  
  
Kirk sighed silently through his nose and relaxed his shoulders.  He finally gave a sideways glance up to his first officer.  The Vulcan's eyes were unwaveringly penetrating, and he quickly looked back to his screen.  
  
The log entries attached, he sent the report on through subspace and folded his hands on the desk, looking down at them.  
  
"Since...humans are emotional beings..." he took a breath, "sometimes we find it easier to make light of circumstances, rather than face up to them."  He hoped Spock couldn't detect the tension in his voice.  
  
There was a brief silence.  And then, "Even when the individuals involved in a given circumstance have no logical reason to desire concealment of their thoughts from one another?"  
  
Kirk's brow rose.  Properly admonished, he swallowed slowly and his hands curled into fists atop the desk.  
  
"Sit down, Spock," he said with a sigh, nodding to the other chair.  
  
He still didn't look the Vulcan fully in the face.  If he hadn't been so wrapped up in his own troubles, he might have taken more notice of the very non-Vulcan statements his first officer was making.  But as it was he couldn't shake the worry that the days events had produced in him.  And he didn't know if he would be able to for a long time.  
  
"I'm sorry," he finally said.  He hoped that would be enough.  
  
There was no answer from the Vulcan for several seconds.  Then Kirk heard him shift in the chair.  
  
He looked up to see Spock's hand reaching across the desk, fingers extending toward his face.  
  
"No!" he gasped without meaning to as he jerked back from the offer of telepathic contact.  
  
In his friend's face he saw surprise and hurt, the hand halted in mid-air.  An iron fist wrapped itself around his heart knowing he was the cause of that pain.  But he hadn't been able to stop his reaction.  
  
"Jim?"  
  
The plaintiveness of that single word, his friend's brow drawn in worry, was more than enough to break Kirk.  He pushed his fists into the table as he leaned forward.  
  
"How can you do that?" he said desperately, his eyes blazing into the dark ones across from him.  "After what almost happened— after what you saw happen to Scotty, and Uhura.  How could you even _want_ to meld with that thing?"  
  
Spock withdrew his hand and set it in his lap.  His posture straightened marginally and his expression lost the emotion it had held.  
  
"As you know the mind meld is inherent to all Vulcans.  While many of my fellows would disagree, as an officer I must consider all options available to me in the performance of my duties—"  
  
"Spock—"  
  
"And, as a scientist, what better way to learn about other life forms, about the infinite diversity of the universe, than in the meeting of minds?"  
  
Kirk looked away, unable to meet the cool gaze across from him.  He couldn't.  
  
"Jim.  Do you not trust me?"  
  
Kirk looked up sharply.  "Of course I trust you!"  
  
Spock cocked his head to one side and looked at Kirk appraisingly.  "I think not."  
  
"If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't have let you take the chance with that thing," Kirk defended himself vehemently.  
  
"Your reactions following the incident suggest otherwise.  Your reluctance to speak with me, and your illogical fear response—"  
  
"Illogical!?" roared Kirk, standing.  
  
Spock nodded placidly.  "Yes, Sir."  
  
Kirk's chest was heaving.  His eyes, pained and desperate were locked onto Spock's calm ones.  
  
Neither man moved for several seconds, and Spock finally lifted one reproaching eyebrow toward his captain.  
  
Kirk clenched his jaw and in two steps had walked around the desk.  He grabbed Spock's wrists and pulled him up to stand in front of him, only inches away from his face.  The Vulcan was as steady as ever, looking down at him now with seeming superiority in his stony features.  Kirk pulled one of Spock's hands up to his face.  
  
 Spock obliged, and Kirk closed his eyes until he felt the familiar presence slowly wash in like waves against a shore.  
  
Annoyance.  Disappointment.  Hurt.  
  
Kirk opened his eyes again and looked into Spock's as he forced the words from his mind that he couldn't get his tongue to speak.  
  
_"I could have lost you!  I_ was _losing you!  If that thing had done to you what it did to Uhura—we didn't know that we would get her back!"_ Terror.  Panic.  
  
_"You freed me of its hold."_  
  
_"But what if it hadn't listened?"_  
  
_"I trusted that you would find a way."_  
  
Kirk saw beyond the churning dark waves to his friend's eyes.  The calm, the peace, the trust, were all echoed in Spock's thoughts directed toward him without words.  
  
Slivers of blue began to rise under the darkness of the negative emotions.  But Kirk couldn't accept it yet.  
  
_"Spock, I think I will always be afraid...  It's...human nature.  But I do trust you."_  
  
The blue pierced the dark, followed by shimmers of white.  The joy, the purity that was the true nature of the joining of their minds began to emerge.  Spock's other hand came to rest heavily on Kirk's shoulder and Kirk released Spock's wrists to grip both of his arms.  
  
Tiny ripples of orange tinged the edge of the white waves, and in confusion Kirk focused on Spock's suddenly intense eyes.  
  
_What is it?_  
  
_I can take away your fear, if you will permit me._  
  
Green splashed up from below the white.  
  
_Let me help._  
  
Kirk closed his eyes and banished the uncertainty, and as he saw the blue calm replace the green among the waves he knew he had caused it this time.  
  
_No, Spock.  Humans need fear._  
  
Pink and gold tinged the waves, and gradually all other colors receded until only the warm, blinding white remained.  
  
_I understand,_ Kirk barely heard the voice as let go of everything that had plagued and paralyzed him throughout the day.  The relief and peace he felt simply being in this place outside of time was immeasurable.  
  
As he sank into the freeing depths he was aware of Spock joining him.  There was already the marvelous oneness of the last meld they had shared, but somehow he felt that there was more in this one.  He didn't have to search to hear Spock's thoughts.  They simply were.  
  
Joy.  Peace.  Completion.  
  
Kirk was aware that he sighed aloud, but he couldn't bring himself to look at the corporeal world he felt his body was in.  It was too perfect a thing for his mind to rest among the white waves.  
  
A sound in his quarters drew his attention, but he didn't want to hear it.  However the telepathic mind controlling his environment started to pull him up out of the waves.  
  
_No..._ he protested wordlessly.  
  
He felt definite amusement in response.  
  
_"Captain, you are receiving a call from the bridge."_  
  
As Spock gradually released him as he had the last time, Kirk heard clearly this time the whistle of the comm on his desk.  
  
Spock's fingers left his face and his other hand drifted lower on his shoulder.  Was that a smile at the corners of his mouth?  
  
The comm whistled a third time.  "This is the bridge, calling Captain Kirk.  Respond please," Palmer's voice sounded through the room.  
  
Kirk sighed, and after giving Spock's arms a squeeze he moved around to sit at his desk and answer the call.  
  
"Yes, what is it Lieutenant?"  
  
"Starfleet has new orders for us.  We are to alter course immediately to the Gamma Trianguli system for standard planetary surveys."  
  
Kirk suppressed a sigh.  "Acknowledge and alter course.  Kirk out," he said.  
  
He looked up at Spock, who raised a questioning brow.  
  
Kirk looked down.  "Spock...I'm sorry—"  
  
"You have already apologized, Captain.  Further discussion of the events involving the Nomad probe is unnecessary."  
  
Kirk looked up and slowly smiled.  "Well, then...  How long will it take us to reach the Gamma Trianguli system?"  
  
"At our present course and speed, approximately eight days."  
  
Kirk marveled to himself at Spock's almost computer-like capabilities.  And then wondered, when his friend displayed such strengths why he still allowed himself to worry.  But of course, he knew the answer to that too.  
  
"Well, then I'm going to take advantage of the opportunity to rest," he said, standing and walking toward his sleeping alcove.  "I suggest you do the same."  
  
"I remind you Captain, that Vulcans require far less sleep than humans."  
  
Kirk smiled gently.  "Of course, Mr. Spock."  
  
They regarded each other, and Kirk was surprised again that after the mind meld he could still be so reticent in front of his friend.  But, Spock seemed to understand, as he always did.  
  
"Goodnight, Sir," he said, turning to go.  
  
"Goodnight, Spock."

 

 


	4. The Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You—traitorous! Disloyal—! You stab me in the back the first chance you get? Spock..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A very short chapter, but an important prelude to the next part of the story. This is a look at a short scene from Spock's point of view in "The Deadly Years."

 

 

"Commander, perhaps I should break it to him," the lilting feminine voice at his shoulder said worriedly.  
  
"No, Doctor.  It is my duty," Spock replied firmly.  If anyone at all on the ship had the right to say what he must now say to the captain, it was him alone.  
  
Together Spock and Dr. Wallace arrived outside Kirk's cabin, and after gaining permission they entered.  Wallace stepped respectfully to the side, for which Spock was grateful.  
  
He took another step in as he watched the hunched figure facing away from him.  The back once straight, now bent in pain.  The hair once golden, now gray with only hints of youth.  
  
"Spock?"  
  
"Yes, Captain," he replied heavily.  
  
"So... I've been relieved," Kirk said bitterly.  
  
He couldn't help the pain hearing those words brought him.  "I'm sorry, Captain."  
  
"Yes.  You should've been a prosecuting attorney," Kirk went on, pinning his anger against Spock.  
  
"Regulations require—"  
  
"Regulations.  Don't give me regulations!  You've wanted command all along.  First little excuse you get..."  
  
"Captain, I have not assumed command," he interrupted softly.  
  
"I hope you're proud of—"

Absorbing the words, the bent back in front of him straightened.  Spock advanced, suppressing his shivers as he went to meet Kirk where he stood as concern for his ship suddenly overrode the madness of the disease.  
  
"What do you mean...you've not assumed command?"  
  
Spock could hear the fear embedded in the tensely spoken words.  "I suffer the same affliction as you, Sir."  
  
"If you're not in command, who is?"  
  
The also-relieved Vulcan officer held his breath against the anger he knew was forthcoming.  
  
"Commodore Stocker."  
  
"Stocker!?" Kirk exploded.  "Are you crazy?  He's never had a field command!"  
  
Spock could practically hear Kirk's words before they were spoken.  He knew all of the arguments would be logical and rational, ironic in the face of the fast-acting disease.  Kirk's command genius was still there, buried beneath the artificially-induced senility.  But there was nothing either of them could do in the situation.  So Spock did as he always had, and fell back on logic.  
  
"Mister Scott was unfit for command.  Commodore Stocker is ranking officer—"  
  
"Don't—  Don't talk to me about rank!  The man's a chair-bound paper-pusher," Kirk said, as Spock had known he would.  "I order you to take command!"  
  
"I cannot, Captain," Spock sighed.  
  
Kirk looked up in astonishment.  And Spock felt more pain than he had during the horrible competency hearing.    
  
"Are you refusing a direct order?"  
  
"No, Sir.  Only Commodore Stocker can give a command order onboard this ship," he said, staring into Kirk's eyes, willing him to understand.  But the disease was stronger.  
  
"You—traitorous!  Disloyal—!  You stab me in the back the first chance you get?  Spock..."  
  
Kirk's eyes blazed with familiar passion.  The desperation to trust...the plea in his voice...  
  
Spock wanted nothing more than to reach out with his mind and provide comfort and stability.  Maybe he could even forestall the growing senility that had made Kirk unfit for command.  But his own mind was weakening with the disease as he was aware of his emotional controls failing him in the face of his friend's suffering.  And what would Kirk's afflicted mind do to his, he wondered, if he were to meld with him?  Would he be strong enough for them both?  Or would Kirk's indomitable will drag them down into oblivion before a cure could be found?  
  
No.  He couldn't help Jim.  He no longer had the strength.  Were he to do as his heart demanded he knew they would both be lost to a fate worse than what the disease was doing to them.  He wasn't even able to resist Kirk's wrath against him now, and could only look back with eyes pleading that the captain would return to himself and understand that he was out of options.  
  
But he didn't.  
  
"Get out," Kirk said, looking away.  The plea for trust had vanished.  And in its place, anguish, quickly masked behind iron gates.  "I never want to have to look at you again."  
  
Spock hadn't believed it possible that Kirk wouldn't see past the veil of the illness.  Surely he would see and know the one whose mind had joined with his!  But as his friend turned away he let the hopelessness claim him finally.  
  
Eyes downcast, Spock turned and fled the room as fast as his radiation-aged body would allow him.

 

 


	5. The Mistake - part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk nestled into the mattress, folding his hands over his midsection. "You know...what I think might really help?" he said hesitantly.  
> Spock waited.  
> "...A mind meld."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Now we begin a story within a story. The next several chapters aren't connected to an episode like the previous ones. Expect cliffhanger endings to each new chapter (muahaha).
> 
> Thanks to all who have commented, I really appreciate the feedback!
> 
> EDIT: Small amount of new content added 12/10/16.

 

 

"You're certain the radiation won't harm any of the crew?" Kirk said, watching McCoy with narrowed eyes.  
  
"Absolutely certain.  I certify this planet as ideal for shore leave."  
  
"Good...good," Kirk said, his gaze drifting to his hands folded atop his desk.  
  
Standing above him, McCoy and Spock exchanged a look.  
  
"Then with your permission Captain, I shall give the order to begin organizing the shore leave parties," Spock said.  
  
"Yes, very good Mr. Spock.  And how is the cultural survey progressing?"  
  
"All surveys proceeding with efficiency, Captain."  
  
"No problems?" Kirk said, almost with disbelief, his brow furrowing.  
  
"Except for the kelbonite in certain geographical locations preventing the use of our transporters, negative.  The Ba'ku appear to be an enlightened species.  There is no civil unrest of any kind."  
  
"And yet preliminary reports show no evidence of technology on the planet?"  
  
Spock lifted a brow.  "Correct, Captain.  However there are certain...anomalies surfacing within the culture that demand further investigation."  
  
Kirk straightened.  "Explain."  
  
Spock looked at McCoy.  
  
"Well, when the biological survey party returned they reported absolutely no disease, nor any apparent aging among any of the populations."  
  
"No aging...or disease, of any kind?" Kirk repeated.  
  
"None."  
  
"That is not all, Captain," Spock continued.  "When the reconaissance team returned they described works of art depicting space-faring vessels, as well as mentions of advanced technology within their literature."  
  
Kirk's brow furrowed.  "...But you said there is no technology anywhere on the planet?"  
  
"Correct, Sir."  
  
Kirk stood, and the doctor and science officer moved out of the way as the captain slowly began pacing the length of his quarters.  
  
"No technology.  No disease, no aging...no violence of any kind.  An idyllic society," he mused.  "And yet their art and literature suggests knowledge of spaceflight."

"And then there's the size of the population," McCoy continued.  "Only three-hundred and four people on the entire planet, in one town."  
  
"Utilizing sophisticated methods in their farming, their textiles, and their architectural endeavors," Spock added.  "This culture does not fit in any one category on the Richter Scale."  
  
Kirk stopped with his hands on his hips and looked at them both, genuine intrigue alight in his eyes.  "It sounds more like a colonization, except...why wouldn't they have their technology, if it is?"  
  
The two science officers looked at each other, the Vulcan with a raised brow.  
  
"This one's going to be fun to crack," McCoy said with a smile, and slowly, Kirk began to return the gesture.  
  
"All right gentlemen.  Prepare for long-term planetary survey under General Order One.  Shore leave will be granted to off-duty personnel on the uninhabited portions of the planet.  And make certain that all transporter operators are aware of the kelbonite deposits.  Dismissed."  
  
McCoy and Spock exchanged another look, and then the doctor departed.  Kirk's brow rose as he moved back to his desk to send an update to Starfleet Command.  
  
"Is there something more, Mr. Spock?"  
  
"I wish to inquire, Captain, when you will be taking your shore leave."  
  
Kirk couldn't help but smirk a little.  Same old Spock...  
  
"After being stuck planetside with Harry Mudd for so long, I think I'd rather just rest up here on the _Enterprise_ ," he answered truthfully.  
  
"Understandable, Sir," Spock said.  "If you change your mind, however, there is a tropical beach in the southern hemisphere of the planet that you might enjoy."  
  
Kirk looked up from the report he'd begun, his face an imperceptible mask.  Was his first officer making a serious suggestion, or was it another of McCoy's coercive tactics...?  
  
"With your permission, I shall return to my duties," Spock said.  
  
"I believe I already dismissed you, Mr. Spock," Kirk said with raised brow, looking back to his report.  
  
Kirk listened to the departure of the soft footsteps as he wrote, to the opening of the door, and its closing.  As soon as Spock was gone he set the pen down and rubbed his eyes with both hands.

 

* * *

 

"Well, how'd it go?"  
  
Spock frowned ever-so slightly.  "Much as it always does.  Although I believe he is less suspicious this time."  
  
"Blast it if I don't have to threaten to remove him from active duty every time he refuses to take leave..." McCoy grumbled, sitting down at his desk.  
  
"Doctor, I believe I may be able to convince the Captain," Spock said.  
  
"Oh?  You weren't very convincing with him just now," McCoy pointed out.  
  
"I believe that by employing a method he frequently attempts to use with me known colloquially as reverse psychology, I will be able to convince him to go on leave."  
  
"Reverse psychology on Jim?  Spock, that man has turned manipulation into a fine art!  Just what do you think you can say to get him off this ship?"  
  
"Quite simple, Doctor.  I will agree with his decision to remain aboard the _Enterprise_ , as I did minutes ago.  And then describe our shore leave plans to him."  
  
"'Our shore leave plans'?" McCoy said incredulously.  
  
"Yes Doctor.  Our plans to traverse the mountainous rainforests of the south-eastern continent.  Of course it will require several days, and we shall have to 'camp out' as the substrate contains kelbonite and will prevent our transporting back to the ship at planet night—"  
  
"Spock," McCoy grinned, "if you don't have him eating out of your hand with that line then I'll hang up my shingle!"  
  
Spock cocked his head.  "Why...should I wish to have the captain eat anything out of my hands?"  
  
McCoy's grin faded and he pursed his lips.  "Nevermind that.  But look, you'd better wait until ship's night to try it on him, when he's buried in all the survey reports.  He gives in more easily when he's stuck at his desk."  
  
"I shall take your advice," Spock said, turning to go.  
  
"You should do that more often!" McCoy called after him, grinning once again.  As stressed as Kirk had looked, it should be a piece of cake for Spock to convince him to go hiking on the planet.  Now all he had to do was get Spock to take leave somehow...

 

* * *

 

"Check," Spock announced as he moved his rook to the queen's level.  It was 0104 hours.  
  
Kirk blinked at the chess board in genuine surprise and narrowed his eyes as he considered his options.  
  
"You're in fine form tonight, Mr. Spock," Kirk said, sipping Saurian brandy from a glass.  
  
"Thank you, Captain," Spock said, turning back to the report he was reading.  It was another geological report, and would make a good segue into his description of the ideal hiking terrain on the planet that he knew Kirk would appreciate, if only he could find a way to work in his agreement that Kirk remain on board.  The captain would never deign to go if he thought he was being told to take leave.  
  
"However..." Kirk said with enough guile that Spock looked up to watch him make his move.  "I think you might be a bit distracted by those reports."  
  
Kirk had moved a knight, effectively getting his king out of check and pinning Spock down.  He would lose either his rook or his queen within three moves.  Spock purposely furrowed his brow as if he hadn't seen that possibility and set the report down, easily in Kirk's line of sight, with the paragraph on the mountains in the center of the screen.  
  
Spock pretended to study the board as he made an advance in the other game being played.  "Perhaps so, Captain.  I shall delegate the task to Lieutenant Gorou before I take my leave tomorrow."  
  
Kirk had started pulling the nearest report closer—the one Spock had set down—but stopped at the science officer's unexpected statement.  
  
"Leave?  You...are going on shore leave?"  
  
"A working leave," Spock acknowledged, keeping his eyes moving between the chess pieces.  "Doctor McCoy invited me to join him on a hike through one of the rainforests.  I admit the prospect of inclement weather does not appeal to me, however the native flora have some interesting properties which have intrigued both of us in our respective disciplines.  Preliminary reports suggest worthwhile findings," he said blandly, and gestured to the report Kirk now held.  
  
The captain looked understandably surprised, and lowered his eyes to the report.  
  
Spock risked a glance at Kirk, and sipped his tea before continuing.  "It is a far trek to the location of the particular plants that show useful properties, and the kelbonite will necessitate that we stay on the planet for several days.  The doctor mentioned an archaic Earth tradition of...'making s'mores' around a campfire.  He failed to explain precisely what the tradition is however, so I admit to a certain...uneasiness."  
  
Kirk looked up from the report, still apparently in some shock.  "You and McCoy are going on leave?  Together?"  
  
Spock gazed back at him with a raised brow as if it were the most natural occurrence.  "Yes, Captain.  Your move."  
  
Kirk looked absolutely dumbfounded, if not a bit hurt.  He rested his chin on one fist and studied the board again.  
  
"Of course, I will be glad when I can return to the ship.  No doubt the most profitable gains will be found here in the processing of the reports of the survey parties."  
  
"Mm...yes, of course," Kirk mumbled, his eyes far away now.  
  
Spock picked up a different report, though he did not begin reading it.  He expected any moment now for Kirk to suggest that his presence could be useful to McCoy and himself somehow.  
  
But as was typical, Kirk managed to surprise him.  
  
"I wish you weren't going," he said simply as he lightly lifted a pawn.  
  
Spock stared at him, unsure how to respond to such a singular statement.  
  
Kirk sipped his brandy again, looking at apparently nothing on the wall next to them.  His eyes were bright with exhaustion, his countenance troubled.  
  
Spock had been ready to checkmate Kirk, certain he didn't see it coming, and that the shock of it would help convince him to go down to the planet.  But now the Vulcan wondered if the need for shore leave was all that was bothering his friend.  
  
"Captain..." he began hesitantly.  Kirk turned and focused his gaze on his first officer, questioning.  "Are you all right?"  
  
Kirk seemed to shake himself inwardly.  "Perfectly all right, Spock, why do you ask?"  
  
Spock sat erect in the chair, dropping all pretense.  "You seem...distracted."  
  
Kirk's expression hardened.  "You're _not_ going to talk me into going on shore leave," he insisted, standing and beginning to pace.  
  
"Why do you resist shore leave?" Spock asked in earnest, standing and folding his hands behind his back.  
  
"I just want to stay on the _Enterprise_ , all right?" Kirk said, reaching a hand behind his back to massage a sore spot next to his spine.  
  
"Captain, are you in pain?"  
  
Kirk looked at him sharply.  "And you're _not_ going to get McCoy to pull me off duty, either!"  
  
Spock gave no reaction whatsoever, and Kirk, suddenly realizing what he'd been saying stopped his pacing to face his first officer.  His frame seemed to collapse under whatever mental strain he was under.  
  
"I'm sorry...Spock, I'm just tired.  Maybe we should finish this game tomorrow."  
  
Spock lifted a brow, and then turned back to the board to make a move.  "Checkmate."  
  
Kirk's eyes widened.  "I...didn't see that coming."  
  
"I am aware of that, Captain.  In fact I could have ended the game six moves ago."  
  
"Maybe there is something wrong with me..." Kirk said, and Spock's expression sharpened.  
  
"Perhaps you should go to sickbay."  
  
"No..." Kirk waved off the suggestion and resumed pacing, massaging the sore spot on his back again.  "Bones will just order me down to the planet."  
  
"Doctor McCoy is not on duty at this hour," Spock said.  
  
Kirk glanced at his chronometer.  "Of course...  Doctor M'Benga?"  
  
"Unless the duty roster has changed."  
  
The indecision on Kirk's face would have been obvious to a first-year cadet.  So Spock made a decision.  
  
"Regardless of any medical diagnosis, I believe I can alleviate some of your physical strain."  
  
Kirk's brow furrowed.  "How?"  
  
"By applying pressure to certain nerve clusters, muscle tension can be released."  
  
Kirk's brow furrowed even more.  "A massage?"  
  
"More like...the pinch, as you call it, which I administer to an adversary to induce unconsciousness."  
  
Kirk's eyes grew wide.  
  
"Lie down, Jim," Spock said, nodding toward the sleeping alcove.  
  
Kirk shook his head slightly and obeyed.  He lay down on his front and found his eyes closing against his will, relishing the softness of the bed.

At first he only felt Spock's fingers examining his muscles, much as the doctor would.  But then sudden pressure right next to his spine almost made him gasp aloud but for the relief that instantly followed.  The ache that had been clawing into his back all day was gone.  
  
"That's incredible!" Kirk said, his voice half muffled by his pillow.  
  
"Please indicate the other areas of pain," Spock said.  
  
Kirk did so, and Spock methodically applied pressure to the appropriate nerve clusters.  Gradually, all of Kirk's aches melted away as if they'd never been there.  
  
It was only minutes later that he shifted over onto his back and looked up at Spock in amazement.  
  
"I feel like I've just spent a week at a Golian spa."  
  
Spock cocked his head slightly.  "A visit to sickbay may still be in order, Captain.  This is only a temporary solution."  
  
Kirk nestled into the mattress, folding his hands over his midsection.  "You know...what I think might really help?" he said hesitantly.  
  
Spock waited.  
  
"...A mind meld."  
  
Spock's brow rose marginally, and he knew he hadn't been able to completely hide his surprise.  Both times he had melded with Jim in the past it had been at his own insistence.  A feeling of self-loathing emerged with those memories, but he forced it back into the recesses of his mind.  Of greater importance was that the captain hadn't seemed to want involvement in either meld until it was already in progress.  
  
Now, he could see Kirk holding his breath, and keeping his features absolutely still to prevent the betrayal of any emotional response when he answered.  What had changed the captain's mind?  
  
Spock's own curiosity about that question easily made the decision for him.  Or at least, that's what he told himself as he gazed down at the still face.  
  
Jim released his breath and his expression morphed into eager anticipation as Spock prepared himself, raising his emotional shields and emptying his mind of distractions.  
  
He gently, carefully placed his fingers on Kirk's face and reached out with his thoughts to touch the familiar ones before him.  
  
As he expected, he had to quickly reinforce his mental shields against the unbridled power that was Kirk's mind.  But this time it wasn't enough, and a sensation of panic came over him as he realized he was losing control.  
  
He understood now that in the prior melds Kirk had been cautious, holding himself back.  Not so now, as the full force of his mind washed up against Spock's shields like a rogue wave.  It was a great need, a longing and a loneliness, beating against his walls in a growing, golden tide.  
  
"Jim!" he cried out in warning, unable to articulate what he needed due to the suddenness of the onslaught.  
  
The unrestrained power of Kirk's emotions rose against him like waters against a dam.  He briefly wondered how this was even possible as Kirk wasn't remotely telepathic, but, as it was in fact happening the 'why' was unimportant.  
  
In his panic he fought against the tide, reinforcing the dam as quickly as he could.  He felt before he saw in Kirk's eyes the confusion and the hurt.  
  
_Spock?  Why?_ he managed to hear amid the waves, and he realized he had choices.  
  
He could fight and most likely win, but risk damage to both of them in doing so.  He could alternatively break the meld, also risking damage.  There would certainly be an emotional fallout, but to what severity he did not know.  Either path would hurt Kirk, and he couldn't bear the thought.  
  
The third choice activated a fear in him that he had not consciously acknowledged before.  He could allow the dam to break, allow Kirk to smash through every control he had, and in the allowing minimize the damage that would be done as Kirk moved against his will as he clearly had the power to do.  But in so losing his controls he risked losing himself—the very thing Kirk had told him he feared.  
  
It seemed inevitable, he admitted, as he was the one who had insisted upon melding to begin with.  Did he want this?  This depth of oneness?  The total revealing of himself?  
  
_I won't hurt you!_ the words broke through his thoughts, and he felt a pause in the rising waters against the dam.  He realized then that his shields were already very weak, and Kirk knew his every thought.  
  
He knew the defiance behind those words, the refusal to do anything to harm his friend.  Kirk would give up all that he wanted to protect Spock.  
  
And yet... _You may proceed._  
  
_I won't hurt you!_  
  
_Jim..._  
  
The waves slowly began rising again, gold turning to blinding white as they did so.  Spock remembered then, from the very first meld when neither was acquainted with the other's mind—that oh-so-human feeling that had overwhelmed him beyond his ability to understand.  It rippled at the top of the dam, ready to spill over at his permission.  
  
He focused on the real, on Jim's intense hazel eyes boring into his, defying him to allow him to injure him.  Spock permitted a small smile to rest on his face, and was pleased to see his friend begin to trust and relax.  How fascinating a mind!  
  
_Thank you._   Amused.  
  
_Jim..._  
  
He sensed the trust, the yearning, the readiness.  And then in one defining moment, he allowed the dam to crumble.  Like sand it washed away under the power of the white tide, and Spock let himself be carried away with it.  
  
He felt...  He could feel.  And it caused him no distress.  He drifted, content, and somehow in the unending waters he felt Jim's hand reach out and take his.  He held it tightly, relishing the wholeness.  
  
Jim was searching for something.  For a word.  
  
Spock laughed and provided it.  
  
_T'hy'la...?_ Jim said a bit uncertainly.  
  
_Your pronunciation is impeccable._  
  
_You laughed!_  
  
_Is that not an appropriate response to happiness?_  
  
Jim laughed too, and Spock smiled again.  
  
Outside of their minds, in Kirk's quarters, time on the _Enterprise_ continued on without them.  Until they were wanted, and did not come.

 

 


	6. The Mistake - part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What have I done? It's my fault. I swore I wouldn't hurt you! Spock!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Part two of the story-within-a-story. Don't read this without reading part one!
> 
> A note for the canon-nuts like me out there: Dr. M'Benga's first name was never mentioned onscreen (please correct me if I'm wrong!) and he's had a couple of names in published fiction, the most common being Geoffrey and Jabilo. However the character was taken from an unproduced TOS script and used in episodes anyway, and in that unproduced script his creator gave him the first name Joseph. That is the name I have chosen to use.

 

 

"Bridge to sickbay," Sulu's deep voice was slightly startling to the doctor.  
  
"Sickbay, McCoy here," he responded and stifled a yawn.  
  
"Doctor, neither the captain or Mr. Spock have reported for duty yet this morning.  We called them, but they don't respond."  
  
McCoy's brow furrowed.  "Huh.  I'll check on it.  Sickbay out."  
  
On his way to the door the doctor grabbed a standard emergency kit and his tricorder.  It was probably nothing, but...

He realized a few moments later that he was jogging through the corridors on his way to the captain's quarters.  He knew that Spock had planned to talk Jim into shore leave the night before, so that was the...logical place to start.  They often indulged in late-night chess games and conversation, and it was on record that Kirk had slept in on rare occasion.  But Spock was like a computer in his attention to his duties.  
  
McCoy buzzed the door on his arrival, and getting no answer he put in his medical override code.  Entering quickly, it only took him a second to see the two men in the sleeping alcove.  But their condition did not look at all normal.  
  
Well, Kirk's did, actually.  He was still in uniform, boots and all, laying on his bed with his hands folded across his middle.  His chest was rising and falling evenly, and he wore a serene smile as he apparently slept.  
  
Spock, however, was collapsed over Kirk.  His body was bent over with his legs on the floor, as if he'd been sitting on the bed when he fell.  His expression was as calm as Kirk's, and while he could have just been asleep too, the position was hardly natural.  
  
"Spock?  Jim?  Jim!"    
  
An instinct told him not to move either of them, and he instead began scanning with his tricorder.  He frowned at the readings and moved to the comm unit on Kirk's desk.  
  
"McCoy to—" he began, and then stopped himself short of calling an emergency medical team.  "McCoy to M'Benga," he changed the call.  It was a few moments before he got a response.  
  
"Leonard, you know I like to sleep in when I don't have alpha shift."  
  
"There's a medical emergency in the captain's quarters.  I need your help," he said evenly.  
  
On the other side of the comm he heard his colleague fumbling with clothing.  "What's wrong?" the man's tone came out crisp and alert.  
  
"I'm not sure.  But it's the captain and Spock.  I'm pretty sure Vulcan telepathy was involved in whatever happened to them," McCoy said, glancing back at his still friends.  
  
"I'll be right there," M'Benga said, closing the channel.  
  
McCoy returned to the alcove and knelt by the head of the bed, looking over the tricorder readings again.  All the life readings were normal except for two things.  Both men showed hyperactivity in the brain, as if they were awake and being violently stimulated.  All of Spock's telepathic centers were active, and Kirk's blood pressure was dangerously high.  
  
The doctor wished again that he had made more of a study of Vulcan telepathy in the past.  Of course, Spock being half-human, standard Vulcan medical science didn't apply to him.  For all McCoy knew, his telepathy was like that of the Andorian ice-dwellers!  
  
The sound of the door sliding open focused him again, and he held up the tricorder as M'Benga stepped into the alcove and over Spock's legs.  
  
"Take a look at these readings."  
  
"Oh dear," M'Benga said after only a moment's study.  
  
"Is it a mind meld?" McCoy asked.  
  
"Yes.  One so deep it may not be possible to break without causing permanent brain damage to both of them."  
  
"What do we do?" McCoy asked even as M'Benga was pulling Spock to a sitting position.  
  
"With the captain, nothing.  It's Spock that we must reach.  Spock!  Spock!" the doctor began shouting, and slapping the Vulcan in the face.  
  
McCoy watched for a moment, fear for his two friends overriding his trust in his colleague.  But then his medical instinct took over and he rose to his feet.  
  
"Here, let me," he said, and M'Benga stepped back to give McCoy some space.  "Spock, you pointed-eared hobgoblin, whatever it is you think you're doing you'd better stop it right now, or I'll confine you to sickbay for a month with Chapel as your personal nurse!"  
  


* * *

  
Floating.  Falling.  Resting.  
  
It was all so peaceful.  
  
Jim.  Jim?  Jim!  
  
...Yes?  
  
The waves weren't there anymore.  It was only air.  Except it wasn't.  But it was still blindingly white.  And wonderful.  
  
What do you call this?  
  
Surely this is the purpose to all existence.  
  
Is it another form of existence?  
  
I don't know.  
  
 _Spock!_  
  
A voice.  
  
Not Jim's voice.  
  
Not Spock's voice.  
  
 _Spock!_  
  
I can't see you.  Why can't I see you?  I can't touch you!  
  
Jim!  
  
Spock!  
  
 _Spock, you pointed-eared hobgoblin!_  
  
McCoy?  Is he with us?  
  
No...  
  
 _You've got to come out of it!  M'Benga says we're going to lose you!_  
  
He is worried.  
  
What's wrong?  I can't see him.  Why can't I see you?  
  
 _You'll both die!  Jim's body can't take this, whatever it is you're doing!  But if you're linked up like this when he dies, we lose you both!_  
  
Jim are you hurt?  
  
No...but I can't see you!  
  
 _Even if we keep him going on life support indefinitely, your minds will eventually deteriorate..._  
  
What's he talking about?  Why can't I see you?  Did something happen to us?  
  
I am uncertain...  
  
 _I don't know how to save you.  There's no science known that can separate you safely.  You've just got to hear me, Spock!_  
  
He's hurting.  He needs us.  We have to go to him.  I...don't know how to get there!  How do we get back to Bones?  
  
The...waters.  We must return to the waters.  
  
Where are they?  I can't see anything!  
  
They are here...  Take my hand.  
  
I can't see!  _Fear!  Afraid!_  
  
I shall guard you.  I have your hand.  
  
Yes...yes, you do.  We're safe.  
  
 _Spock, please!  You've got to come back.  You and Jim both, come back..._  
  
We're coming, Bones!  
  
The waters...  
  
White.  Gold.  Pink.  Swirling around and over and through.  Splashing against paper-thin walls that rise out of pure thought.  Blue, the color of logic.  Reinforcing the walls.  
  
 _"Spock, what's going on?"_  
  
 _"Do not be afraid."_  
  
 _"But you're afraid!"_  
  
 _"Yes.  Most unfortunate."_  
  
 _"What's wrong?"_  
  
 _"Much I fear.  You must come with me, Jim."_  
  
 _"Anywhere!"_   Gold splashes, tipped in crimson.  
  
 _Pain!_  
  
 _"No!  You must relinquish all control to me!"_  
  
 _"What happened?"_  
  
 _Fear.  Worry.  Regret._  
  
 _"What have I done?  It's my fault.  I swore I wouldn't hurt you!  Spock!"_  
  
 _"The fault is mine.  I knew the risk and I ignored it."_  
  
 _"What's happening?"_  
  
 _"Selfish.  Foolish.  Immature."_  
  
 _"No, Spock, no!  My friend!"_  
  
 _"Give me the control.  Trust me!"_  
  
 _"I trust you."_  
  


* * *

  
"Come on Spock, that's it, you green-blooded imbecile, wake up!" McCoy said, leaning toward the face that was finally showing signs of consciousness.    
  
The eyes sluggishly began to blink until they opened in a half-lidded blank stare.  The two doctors stared down at him, holding their breath.  
  
"Spock?" McCoy breathed.  "Are you all right?"  
  
The Vulcan, supported entirely by M'Benga, shakily turned his head to face the captain.  McCoy also looked and saw Jim's eyes opening in the same over-sedated manner, and full of confusion.  
  
"Jim!" McCoy said, and hurriedly took tricorder readings of them both.  Unfortunately, it wasn't any better.  "Jim, you've both got to get to sickbay, whatever you just—"  
  
"Ah!" the cry came from Kirk's lips and was echoed almost instantly from Spock's.  Kirk gripped his chest as the tricorder alarms whined the emergency when the captain's heart began to flutter.  
  
McCoy looked from his captain to the Vulcan, now collapsed on the floor as M'Benga had run to the comm unit.  
  
"What the devil is happening..." he whispered, watching as Spock writhed in pain from no apparent cause, while Kirk's heart betrayed him due to the high blood pressure.  
  
"Emergency teams are on their way," M'Benga said, returning.  
  
"What's wrong with him?  The tricorder isn't registering anything!" McCoy said, gesturing to Spock as he pulled a hypo for Kirk from his emergency kit.  
  
"He is experiencing Kirk's pain.  A residual effect of such a deep mind meld."  
  
"Will it hurt him?" McCoy asked, hesitating with the hypo of cordrazine.  
  
"It could," M'Benga said gravely.  
  
The older doctor looked between the two as they struggled against the invisible.  His tricorder, directed at Kirk, was clear about the human's readings.  Atrial flutter and swelling of the heart caused by severe hypertension.  
  
McCoy sighed.  He was a doctor.  "Lord forgive me..." he murmured as he injected Kirk with the stimulant.  
  
He watched with baited breath as the heart rate began to slow and the rhythm normalized.  It didn't do anything for the swelling and hypertension, but at least the immediate danger had passed.  
  
"I hope that's the worst of it..." he muttered, turning the tricorder back on Spock.  
  
"I doubt it," M'Benga said, watching as the Vulcan, no longer in pain, rose to his knees with his eyes fixed pointedly on Kirk, his expression betraying fear and confusion.  
  
"Spock...?" McCoy said warily.  
  
"I—" the Vulcan began, but Kirk had spoken at the exact same moment and he stopped.  
  
The doctors turned to look at their captain.  
  
"What happ—?" Kirk began, but stopped mid-word as Spock spoke at the same moment—the exact words.  
  
Kirk looked at Spock in wild confusion, while Spock closed his eyes tightly, his face showing an internal war was being fought now.  His frame shivered a few times from the force of it.  
  
McCoy watched them in fear and fascination.  And he dared not let his thoughts go further than that.  
  
After a moment, Spock opened his eyes again, his jaw clenched like a vise, and he turned his hardened gaze back to Kirk.  
  
The captain blinked a few times, and then spoke again.  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
Despite his severe effort, the words left Spock's lips too, in perfect synchronicity with Kirk's.  
  
"Oh my...!" left both men's lips while Kirk's eyes widened in terror.  Contrarily, Spock's darkened with sorrow and pain.  
  
The door to Kirk's quarters slid open to admit the emergency medical team, and they struggled to get two antigrav gurneys through the door.  
  
"All right you two," McCoy took charge, "you both just keep your lips sealed until we can figure out how to fix this.  Now up you get onto those carts!"  
  
M'Benga and McCoy helped Spock and Kirk respectively to the gurneys, and though both men now appeared physically fine, they certainly weren't in a position to argue.  The orderlies in attendance hurriedly began steering the gurneys back the way they came.  
  
An engineering crewman right outside the captain's quarters stopped, wide-eyed, at the sight of the medical entourage.  
  
"Oh for crying out loud..." McCoy slapped a wall comm, "McCoy to bridge.  Clear the corridors between the captain's quarters and sickbay, now!"  
  
"What's wrong, Doctor?" Christine Chapel said, taking tricorder readings of Spock per standard procedure while Nurse Thomas took readings of Kirk.  
  
McCoy caught up with the antigravs and locked eyes with M'Benga.  The southern doctor knew better than to broadcast this to his whole department.  Not to mention the bureaucratic eruption they would risk if it were suddenly common knowledge around headquarters that the flagship's two commanding officers had suddenly lost their marbles.  
  
"Just take the readings Nurse, and report," he said gruffly.  "What's the brain activity look like?"  
  
"Elevated, but within norms for Mr. Spock," Chapel replied.  
  
"And Kirk?" he turned to Thomas.  
  
"Also elevated but within human norms," she answered.  "But Doctor, there's severe hypertension and swelling of the heart."  
  
"I'm already aware of that.  Is his blood pressure going down?"  
  
"...Yes sir," she replied after a moment, squinting at the readings.  
  
"Good.  And..." McCoy sighed, "what about Spock's telepathic activity?"  
  
Chapel made the necessary adjustments to the tricorder, and when she took the readings her jaw dropped.  "Doctor, they're...I've never seen the readings this high!"  
  
She looked down at Spock, unnumbered questions in her eyes.  But the science officer's eyes were fixed on Kirk's, and the captain's back on the Vulcan's.  Out in the corridor both had regained much of their equanimity, but the tension and worry was still evident on both men's faces.  
  
 _Jim..._  
  
"Spock!" both men gasped aloud, and McCoy turned on them in a temper.  
  
"I said don't speak, either of you!  Is that understood?"  
  
Kirk, unable to mask his deathly worry, glanced up at McCoy and nodded crisply.  
  
Spock, his expression much more composed, also looked up and nodded.  
  
But it wasn't enough for McCoy.  Now that he felt the immediate danger was passed, he was angry.  His two best friends had gone and gotten themselves mixed up in some telepathic nightmare and he had no idea how to get them out of it.  So he lashed out, coldly and directly.  
  
"And just so you two understand how serious of a mess you're in, you are both relieved of duty effective immediately!"  
  
Kirk looked up sharply, a myriad of emotions playing over his face in quick succession, while Spock looked down in seeming shame.  Something about that struck McCoy, but he was too upset to wonder about it and so logged it away until it became relevant, _if_ it became relevant.  
  
The chief medical officer was silent after his authoritative outburst, but his staff could see he was like a pot of hot water, ready to boil over at the slightest jarring of his delicate balance.  M'Benga took on the responsibility of issuing the orders for standard vitamin injections and hydration procedures, as one might do with someone just retrieved from a harsh wilderness.  
  
"We're going to treat this like basic recovery, until we decide otherwise," he finished, the nurses and orderlies responding in a chorus of "aye-aye's" to the doctor's masterful instructions.  
  
Once in sickbay, Kirk and Spock climbed without complaint—and in perfect synchronization, for anyone watching for it—onto the biobeds.  
  
The orderlies began packing away the antigrav gurneys while Thomas and M'Benga set about preparing the necessary supplements for the patients.  Christine Chapel however, looked between the captain and first officer who were watching each other in a way that she couldn't quite put into words.  Almost as if they couldn't stand to look at each other but also couldn't stand to look away.  
  
"Doctor," she said, "except for the captain's blood pressure and the abnormal telepathic activity...they seem fine."  
  
McCoy cast his eyes heavenward as if asking 'why me?' before clearing his throat and getting the attention of all the sickbay staff.  
  
"I'm afraid the captain's and commander's condition is classified and cannot be discussed beyond these bulkheads," he addressed the already-wary medical team.  "You'll be given information on a need-to-know basis.  And I'm just going to say it now—you really don't need to know."  
  
The blue-uniformed men and women stared at him, their faces a mixture of worry and trepidation.  McCoy bounced once on his toes.  "As you were!" he said, and everyone scurried back to their tasks.  Everyone except Chapel, who stubbornly stood her ground in front of McCoy.  
  
"Sorry Christine.  Not this time," he said, shaking his head.  
  
"But if I can be of help—"  
  
"Joseph and I have got this.  You can help by keeping everyone else in line, and not letting this get around to the rest of the ship.  Can you do that?" he said coolly.  
  
Chapel frowned, but nodded.  "Yes, Doctor," she said stiffly, and left the room.  
  
"Now then..." McCoy said as he turned back to his patients, one of whom looked up anxiously and the other with downright despondence.  "We've got to get you two in confinement...and then figure out just what happened and how we're going to fix it."  
  
Kirk, apparently resigning himself to whatever fate awaited him, let his head fall back against the pillow.  Spock still leaned on his side however, and turned his gaze back to Kirk.  
  
Again, McCoy had the thought that for some reason he needed to pay attention to their simplest of actions.  But since he didn't know why he let the thought lie as he strode to the wall comm.  
  
"Mr. Scott, report to sickbay immediately."

 

 


	7. The Mistake - part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't how it was supposed to be. The loss of the oneness created an ache in Kirk's chest, and he bent his head in pain. He wondered if Spock felt the loss too. And he hated having to wonder!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Let me know if the formatting I've chosen for telepathic speech and written speech is easily readable, or if it's cumbersome. I can go back and add quotation marks.

 

 

"The captain and Mr. Spock are what!?" Scotty exclaimed, looking disbelievingly between M'Benga and McCoy.  
  
Kirk and Spock were now in the privacy ward as the only two patients.  They were both sitting up on their beds, watching the dialogue taking place between the two doctors and the chief engineer of the _Enterprise_.  
  
"They're mentally linked," M'Benga explained.  "Somehow, something went wrong in a mind meld between them, and now they can't break free of it."  
  
"What's that mean, can't break free?"  
  
McCoy remembered suddenly the small pieces of evidence he'd seen in the last several minutes since the crisis began.  A light in his eyes, he approached the two.  
  
"It's interesting...  They _are_ capable of independent thought and actions.  Sometimes," he declared, raising one thoughtful brow.   "But then at other times, it's like they're one man.  For example...oh well, go on, show him!" McCoy said, throwing up a hand in resignation.  
  
Kirk and Spock looked at each other.  Spock lifted his brow as if to give permission to act to his captain.  Kirk frowned in response.  
  
"I don't think—" both men said in unison.  
  
Scotty looked between the two in astonishment.  
  
"We're not trying to—" they began again.  
  
"See what I mean?  If either of them speaks, the other speaks too.  They haven't gotten a complete sentence out since we found them," McCoy said.  "But did you see, before they spoke?  The way moved, and looked around?  They _still_ have independence!"  
  
"And that," M'Benga cut in, "is our only source of hope.  I've done a little reading on this phenomenon.  It is extremely rare, and always fatal.  When two minds are joined to this degree they become a composite and naturally go mad, if they don't die first due to the inability to manage both bodies.  Since they are demonstrating the capability to think independently, we just might be able to bring them back out of it."  
  
"How are you going to do that?" Scotty asked incredulously.  
  
M'Benga frowned, and McCoy grimaced.  "We don't know," the older doctor said.  
  
"There is something else," Kirk and Spock said, and the other three looked up at them in interest.  
  
The two looked at each other, and Kirk looked pained while Spock looked determined.  The two spoke in unison again.  
  
"We have some ability to communicate telepathically without spoken word."  
  
Kirk closed his eyes like he was in even more pain, but still spoke in unison with Spock, who was clearly in the lead.  "It is an inconsistent phenomenon, as are our involuntary synchronous actions."  
  
"Jim..." McCoy stepped forward.  "Does it hurt when you two speak together?"  
  
"Yes," both men said, Kirk nodding.  But this time McCoy noticed Spock give a slight wince of pain.  
  
"That hurt you, Spock?"  
  
The Vulcan nodded, Kirk did not.  
  
"Okay..." McCoy said, rubbing his chin.  "Apart from the fact that it gives me the heebie jeebies, if it's hurting you then you ought not talk at all.  I don't want to risk more damage.  If you need to tell us something, just...write it down."  
  
M'Benga stepped forward.  "If I may, I'd like to contact a colleague who may have greater knowledge of this."  
  
"Well hold on," McCoy held up a hand, "you'll need to make sure they'll keep their lips shut about this whole thing.  Can you imagine if this gets out?"  
  
"Doctor McCoy," Scotty broke in, and the medical men looked at him.  "Why were Mr. Spock and the captain in a mind meld to begin with?"  
  
Kirk's brow rose suddenly, and both afflicted men averted their eyes from the penetrating gazes of the other officers.  
  
" _That_...is an excellent question, Scotty," McCoy said accusingly.  "But I'd rather get them fixed before passing blame around.  I'm sure you understand, you can't tell anyone about this."  
  
"No, of course not!" the engineer replied sincerely.  
  
"I've relieved both Jim and Spock of their duties until further notice.  That means you're in command."  
  
Scotty drew himself up to full height, and to attention.  "Aye, Doctor."  
  
"And...you'd better get up there," McCoy flapped a hand carelessly toward the door.  "I called them to clear the corridors about twenty minutes ago and didn't tell them why.  That's one patient crew you've got, Jim," McCoy said, turning back toward the captain.  
  
"Don't worry gentlemen," Scotty addressed his two commanding officers, "the _Enterprise_ will be just fine until you two are ship-shape again."  
  
Kirk smiled his trust back at Scotty, and the man in red departed the privacy ward.  
  
"Now then," McCoy rubbed his hands and looked at M'Benga, "about your colleague..."  
  


* * *

  
Every eye on the bridge turned when Scotty entered, and he sucked in a breath as he saw everyone's concern.  
  
He looked around at them all and nodded once, before stepping up to the command chair.  
  
"I relieve you, Mr. Sulu."  
  
"Aye, Sir," Sulu said in confusion as he stepped down to retake the helm.  Scotty sat down in the center seat with his face grim.  
  
"Mr. Scott," Uhura's soft voice sounded behind him and he turned the chair.  "Doctor McCoy ordered the corridors cleared.  Has something happened to the captain?"  
  
Scotty pursed his lips and then spoke slowly, weighing every word.  
  
"Captain Kirk...and Mr. Spock are under Doctor McCoy's care.  Their condition is classified and I'm not at liberty to discuss it.  They've been relieved of duty and I have been ordered to take command until further notice."  
  
The silence on the bridge was interrupted only by the regular beeps and whistless of the computer consoles.  The tension remained until a young, innocent voice spoke from navigation.  
  
"Are...they going to be all right, Mr. Scott?" Chekov asked.  
  
Scotty let out a slow breath and smiled.  "I saw them just before I came up.  And I think...I think things will turn out right."  
  
The collective relief was palpable.  Smiling faces manned each console again and Scotty relaxed back into the chair.  Maybe this would all be over by the end of the day.  And the ship was engaged in a routine planetary survey, after all.  Nothing else would go wrong.  
  
A received hail at Uhura's console changed that, and a moment later the lieutenant turned toward him with a report.  
  
"New orders coming in from Starfleet Command, Mr. Scott.  We are to recall survey parties...the _Excalibur_ will take over...and we are ordered to report immediately to Deep Space K-7 to assist in resolving a planetary claim dispute between the Federation and the Klingon Empire."  
  
Scotty frowned.  Diplomacy was most definitely not his area.  "Acknowledge that orders are received, Lieutenant," he said.  
  
"Aye, Sir...Sir?  Regulations state that Command Headquarters be notified of any official change in command aboard a starship.  Should I inform Starfleet of Captain Kirk's and Mr. Spock's condition?"  
  
Scotty's jaw dropped just a fraction.  "Eh...hold on that Lieutenant," he said, rising from the chair.  "And hold on acknowledging our new orders until I've spoken with the doctor," he said as he exited the bridge via turbolift.  
  


* * *

  
 _Jim..._  
  
Kirk turned from laying on his back to look over at his friend.  
  
 _...Spock?  How is this possible?_  
  
Spock looked sadly back.  _It is a side effect of being trapped in the meld.  I'm sorry._  
  
 _Trapped...?_ Kirk's brow furrowed.  
  
 _Yes.  If not for Doctor McCoy's interference we would still be there, if not lost entirely._  
  
 _Explain._   Kirk sat up and looked at his friend intently.  
  
 _Do you recall the first time we melded, I told you there was a danger?_  
  
 _Yes...  It was like M'Benga said.  There was a risk of becoming...a single mind, and going mad._  
  
Spock also sat up and nodded fractionally, his eyes still sad.  
  
Kirk realized then.  _That's what was happening to us.  That's why...I couldn't see anymore.  Why I felt like I no longer had a body._  
  
 _Because you are not telepathic.  Despite the extreme strength of your mind, mine was quickly becoming the dominant one.  But to absorb yours would have destroyed mine as well.  A single mind cannot exist within two bodies._  
  
Kirk looked down a moment, trying to remember all of the meld.  _How did it happen?_  
  
 _I did nothing to prevent it.  I...wanted us to be closer.  I'm sorry, Jim._  
  
The despair in Spock's eyes was too much for Kirk, and he rose from his biobed and sat beside Spock on his.  
  
 _I seem to recall...pushing against your mental shields, despite your protests._  
  
 _I could have forced you out._  
  
 _But you didn't.  You let me in.  It's my fault more than it's yours._  
  
 _Jim..._   Spock turned his head to look up at him.  _I am a Vulcan.  I knew precisely what could happen.  And I did nothing to stop it, or to warn you.  I am to blame._  
  
 _I shouldn't have suggested the mind meld anyway.  Selfish of me..._ Kirk said, looking away.  
  
Kirk realized suddenly that this communication was different from a meld.  It was limited to speech only.  Thoughts and emotions seemed to play no part in it.  
  
 _Spock...I can only hear your voice, not your thoughts.  Why can't we feel what each other is feeling like this?_  
  
 _I believe some of my telepathic abilities have been damaged.  I reach out for your feelings, but I cannot find them._  
  
A stab of panic went through Kirk at the thought of Spock losing part of himself.  _Maybe...if we both concentrate..._  
  
Spock met his eyes as they reached for each other's thoughts.  But after several seconds it was clear that there was no change in their communication.  
  
Spock's gaze dropped, and he stared at his loosely clasped hands in his lap.  Kirk was overwhelmed.  
  
 _Spock...  I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry._  
  
 _Jim..._  
  
 _Spock, listen.  I shouldn't have suggested the meld.  It was selfish of me._  
  
Spock didn't look up, but Kirk could still hear his statement.  _I thought you feared it._  
  
 _I did...  And I do.  I fear this...entrapment...will happen to you with some other being, and that I'll lose you completely.  But Spock..._  
  
The Vulcan gave him a sideways glance from his bowed head.  
  
 _That...oneness, from the very first.  Sharing your mind, your soul...  There is...nothing more precious to me in the universe.  It is the place I feel the most...complete._  
  
Spock lifted his head just a little, his eyes slightly less despairing.  
  
Kirk smiled at him encouragingly and recalled the word Spock had taught him.  
  
 _T'hy'la.  My friend._  
  
Spock turned his head slightly, his eyes warming under Kirk's unashamed display.  And in Kirk's mind, he heard the soft reply.  
  
 _It would seem I am also complete with you, Jim._  
  
Kirk lifted a hand and placed it gently on Spock's shoulder.  The Vulcan looked down at his hands again.  Kirk was frusrated at not being able to feel what his friend was feeling.  He took matters literally into his hands and gripped both of Spock's shoulders in a tight embrace.  
  
 _Spock..._   
  
He took a deep breath and spoke.  As he'd come to expect, his friend's voice sounded in unison with his.  "It was worth it."  
  
Spock looked up at him sadly.  _And if our minds cannot be restored?  If we go mad, and die?  No Jim, your death is worth no personal gain of my own._  
  
Kirk smiled thoughtfully.  _At least...we won't die alone._ He hoped his good humor translated through the words.  
  
 _Madness is not a pleasant death._  
  
Kirk frowned again, and looked down at his boots.  Spock's were crossed at the ankles next to his.  
  
Kirk wondered at the difference between this and an actual meld.  In the meld, at will he could have chosen to feel Spock's feet in the boots and his discomfort with the cool of the ship, or he could choose not to feel it.  And even as he had those thoughts, in a meld Spock would be hearing them all as he had them, just as he could hear Spock's thoughts and feel what Spock felt in the moments they occurred.  
  
The awesome power of the mind meld was suddenly impressed upon him.  The fact that it was even possible shocked him anew, just as the first time he had learned of it.  His fear returned to him as he remembered all the times he had seen Spock speak with another's thoughts, his eyes lost in that dimension that existed somewhere between thought and emotion.  
  
But that place...that existence...  The purity of the joining of minds, of knowing another instantly and completely.  He understood why Spock was willing to do it so much.  He craved it himself, for them.  
  
But now the only hints of that depth of oneness were when they spoke, or apparently when they did things without thinking.  Twice Kirk had scratched his elbow and noticed Spock doing the same.  And when Spock had reached for a glass of water Kirk's hand was suddenly on the glass too.  But these things were not in their control.  Only apparently their silent speech, and willful thought.  
  
This wasn't how it was supposed to be.  The loss of the oneness created an ache in Kirk's chest, and he bent his head in pain.  He wondered if Spock felt the loss too.  And he hated having to wonder!  
  
 _Jim.._.  The voice in Kirk's mind interrupted his thoughts.  _If no solution can be found, I can release us from this before madness ensues._  
  
Kirk looked up sharply.  _...Suicide?_  
  
Spock's eyes gave him answer.  
  
"It's far—" he remembered himself hearing Spock's voice, and clamped his jaw shut.    
  
 _It's far too soon for anything like that, Science Officer!_   Kirk closed his eyes and calmed his breathing.  He had to reassure Spock somehow.  _I would think you would be interested in studying this, if it's such a rarity as M'Benga says.  And apparently we're already beating the odds._  
  
The Vulcan was not swayed, and looked back at Kirk with an insistent despair.  
  
 _At what cost to you?  As a human, you cannot handle the mental strain of such a joining.  Your heart almost stopped.  If not for the doctor's timely presence, you—likely both of us—would already be dead._  
  
 _I...wanted to join with you!  I still do!_ Kirk stared at him pleadingly, gripping his shoulders tighter.  _You've got to hear me!  I was willing to take the risk!  Spock!_  
  
The Vulcan stared back at him doubtfully, eyes full of pain.  
  
Kirk sighed and wrapped his arms around him in a firm hug.  It wasn't right...  _It's not right for us to be able to speak like this and not also share thoughts, and feelings._   He pulled back to look at Spock.  _What if we tried to fix this...all of this, with another meld?  Could it be done?_  
  
Spock looked extremely skeptical, but then raised one brow in almost a shrug.  He started lifting his hand.  
  
"Oh no you don't!" McCoy's voice startled them and they turned in unison, almost bumping heads.  
  
The doctor pushed himself off of the doorframe where he'd been leaning and approached them angrily.  
  
"We don't even understand the problem yet.  You will _not_ risk making it worse!"  
  
Spock looked down, chagrinned, and Kirk looked up at the doctor desperately.  McCoy softened under their clear suffering and uncrossed his arms.  
  
"Look...  Whatever's going on..." he looked up pointedly, "and you _will_ tell me what's going on!"  He took a moment to calm himself before continuing.  "I understand that you two have to talk about it.  But it looks to me like you've been doing that for the last several minutes.  Didn't you say Spock, that you could speak telepathically?"  
  
Spock glanced up and nodded.  
  
"Well, that doesn't seem to be causing any harm.  So go ahead and talk, but keep it limited to that.  Don't risk making it worse before we even know how bad it is."  
  
McCoy watched the two men curiously.  Kirk was gripping the edge of the mattress and grinding his teeth, fighting to hold in the stress he was apt to release in loud verbal explosions.  Spock on the other hand, looked absolutely miserable.  Hands folded limply in his lap, eyes downcast, mouth almost frowning.  All this because for some reason they had entered into a Vulcan mind meld?  
  
McCoy crossed his arms and leaned against the edge of Kirk's unoccupied bed.  "Just what were you two doing anyway?"  
  
Kirk and Spock glanced at each other, apparently discussing whether or not to tell him.  They reached at the same time for a PADD that had been left for them, the victory going to Kirk who began writing quickly.  It was only a few moments later that Spock halted him with a hand, and pressed the erase command.  Kirk looked startled, and McCoy watched their facial expressions as they obviously discussed just what they were going to tell him.  
  
"I suggest you just tell the truth Jim, Spock," he said, getting their attention again.  
  
The two looked at each other again, Kirk almost apologetically and Spock looking a bit affronted.  Kirk offered him the PADD, but Spock gestured that Kirk should continue.  
  
The man in gold sighed silently and began writing again, and quickly finishing he handed the PADD to McCoy.  
  
 ** _I asked Spock to meld with me because I thought it would help me relax._ **  
  
McCoy looked up disbelievingly.  "That's all?  Come on Jim, you've got to do better than that.  Why'd you think a mind meld would help?"  
  
"We have melded before, Doctor," both men spoke.  McCoy thought it might have been Spock initiating the speech that time.  
  
"You have?  When?"  
  
Kirk reached for the PADD, but then looked up in surprise as his voice sounded again with Spock's.  
  
"Stardate 3378.9 and stardate 3542.8," the voices answered.  Kirk looked up at Spock, who now sat erect and masterful as ever.  
  
McCoy eyed them carefully again.  "What's significant about those stardates?"  
  
McCoy watched as another silent conversation took place, Kirk quickly losing this argument.  He reached for the PADD, but then handed it to Spock, who began writing.  
  
The doctor watched as Kirk read over his shoulder, grimacing slightly, but nodding when Spock looked up at him.  Finally, Spock handed him the PADD.  
  
 _ **On both occasions the Captain and I were having difficulty communicating.  I suggested the melds as a way to facilitate clarity and meaning, and the Captain agreed.**_  
  
McCoy looked up between the two.  "That's how it was, Jim?"  
  
Kirk nodded.  
  
"But then why this one, last night?  What went wrong?"  
  
Kirk reached for the PADD and started writing.  Every now and then he'd pause and look up, as Spock said something silently to him.  Kirk's brow furrowed in determination and he kept writing.  Spock looked away.  
  
McCoy received the PADD but didn't read it immediately as in front of him his friends were clearly in disagreement.  Apparently Spock was now giving Kirk the silent treatment, if the hard set to his jaw and the pleading in Kirk's eyes were any indication.  It would be laughable if not for the captain's near-death less than an hour before.  
  
 ** _I like mind melds.  They're extremely relaxing.  But according to Spock I pushed too hard and damaged his mental shields this time._**  
  
"But Jim, you're not a telepath.  How could you do something like that?"  
  
Spock did look back at Kirk then, and Kirk lifted his hands in a shrug.  
  
McCoy frowned.  "Okay...  So you've had two previous mind melds with no problems, but this time...Jim you somehow damaged Spock's mind and now we're stuck with you two linked together like this?"  
  
"Essentially," Kirk and Spock answered.  
  
McCoy thought it over for a minute.  Something wasn't adding up.  He set the PADD aside and really looked at the two of them.  Spock was a brick wall and Kirk, an emotional mess.  But the captain was holding his breath.  
  
"Now...wait a minute, Spock, couldn't you tell if there was any danger?  You've mind melded with alien species, even with mechanical beings, and you always came out of it completely unharmed."  
  
Kirk looked at Spock with what appeared to be encouragement.  The Vulcan sighed slightly before looking back up and crossing his arms.  
  
"I..." both voices spoke hesitantly, "allowed it to happen."  
  
McCoy blinked, and shook his head once in disbelief of what he'd just heard.  "You _what?_ "  
  
Kirk looked embarrassed, and Spock terrifyingly cold, as if daring him to challenge what he'd done.  McCoy pushed himself off the bed and paced the room in an erratic circle.  
  
"Of all the stupid, irresponsible—!"  He stopped and pointed back toward the door.  "Scotty's waiting out there for me to give him an answer.  Regulations require that any command change be reported to Starfleet, and I'll be required to send my medical evaluation of why I relieved you both of duty.  Do you have any idea what will happen if I tell Starfleet that the _Enterprise_ 's commanding officers went off on some kind of telepathic junket, throwing caution to the stars because they _felt like it!_ "  
  
Both men started off the bed toward McCoy, and Spock halted himself after two steps, lifting a hand to his head in pain.  
  
"Why, neither of you will ever have a command again if I tell them what's happening!"  
  
"Bones," both voices spoke as Kirk took McCoy's shoulders.  "Please!"  
  
McCoy glared daggers back into his friend's pained eyes.  He was furious with them both.  But he already knew what he was going to do.  
  
"Just...lie down and rest until M'Benga gets back with some more information.  I'll figure out how to handle headquarters," he said, looking away from Kirk's desperate face.  
  
"Thanks Bones," both voices spoke.  McCoy looked past Kirk to where Spock stood.  He had the decency to look unsettled.  
  
"You won't be thanking me when this is over," he said, turning to go back to the main ward.  
  


* * *

  
"Well, Doctor?" Scotty asked McCoy a moment later as he pulled a bottle of Saurian brandy from a cabinet.  
  
It was far too early, but by gosh he needed a drink!  
  
Scotty waited the minute while McCoy poured the brandy, threw it back, and then sat heavily behind his desk.  
  
"We can't tell Command about this, Scotty.  If we do, Jim and Spock will lose their commissions.  I'm sure of it."  
  
"But why?  If it's just an accident—"  
  
"This was no accident, Scotty.  I think they were _trying_ to do something like this, they just don't want to admit it."  
  
Scotty stared disbelievingly.  "They were...trying to get themselves mentally linked?  But why?"  
  
McCoy sipped slowly from his second glass and peered up at the engineer.  "Do you have to ask?  Those two can barely stand being apart when they have alternating duty shifts.  They lose sleep in late-night chess games just so they can be in the same room together."  
  
"Och, Doctor McCoy!  You're not suggesting..." Scotty said reproachfully.  
  
"No, no I'm not.  We both know Jim better than that."  
  
"And I know Mr. Spock better than that!  You forget I served with him before you were assigned to us."  
  
McCoy stood again and stretched, rubbing his forehead where an ache was growing.  "No, I know Spock better than that too..."  
  
The doctor looked long at Scotty, the way he stood at near-attention, as ready to give a command as he was ready to follow one.  
  
"Scotty, before you were assigned to the _Enterprise_ , where were you posted?"  
  
"That was a great many years ago, Doctor," he said with a fond grin, reminding McCoy where his heart was.  "I was assistant chief engineer on the _Republic_ for awhile.  That's where I met the captain!  And before that I helped fit the _Intrepid_ in drydock, among other things."  
  
"Did you enjoy your time working on those ships?" McCoy asked thoughtfully.  
  
Scotty smiled wider.  "Aye, that I did!  They were beauties!  Of course, they don't compare to the _Enterprise_."  
  
"How about your friends?  Do you keep in touch?"  
  
"Oh, aye, with most of them.  We had a grand old time in those days!"  
  
"How about your chief on the _Republic_.  Do you keep in touch with him?" McCoy asked, looking at him intently.  
  
Scotty frowned slightly.  "Now that you mention it, no, I don't really."  
  
McCoy lifted a finger and pointed back to the privacy ward.  "That's it, Scotty.  That's what they're up to."  
  
"I don't understand," Scotty said, shaking his head.  
  
"The loneliness of command, Scotty.  We all have... _some_ acquaintances in the lower ranks, but as soon as we're promoted, the list of party guests for people like us grows mighty short."  
  
Scotty's brow rose in understanding.  "Aye..."  
  
"And for Jim...think about it, Scotty.  He's the youngest man to ever make captain!  The only friends he's allowed to have are in the brass, and they're all fifteen years his senior or more.  Not to mention none of them are here, on the ship."  
  
Scotty nodded, looking toward the door sympathetically.  
  
"And Spock...he's both Vulcan and human, always at war with himself.  I've heard him say it.  Did he ever make any friends when you served with him before Jim was assigned here?"  
  
"No, in fact he never even came down to the mess.  None of us who'd been here could believe it when he started playing that harp of his on the rec deck."  
  
McCoy sat down again and slowly finished his second drink.  He capped the bottle and stowed it back in its cabinet.  "Two lonely men...  Out in deep space for years, never making port at their home planets.  This mess makes a lot more sense when you think about it like that."  
  
"Aye, it does Doctor," Scotty said with a nod.  "But what about Starfleet?  They've given us new orders and they're waiting for a response."  
  
McCoy shook his head.  "We can't tell them.  I know it's our careers too, if we lie to them and they catch on to this, but—"  
  
"You don't have to tell me twice, Doctor," Scotty said with a crisp, loyal nod.  
  
"Just find a way to get rid of them without saying a word about Jim or Spock."  
  
"You can count on it, Doctor," Scotty said, and turned on his heel to go back to the bridge.  
  


* * *

  
"Lieutenant Uhura," Scotty's voice rang out commandingly as he re-entered the bridge.  "When was the message from Starfleet sent?"  
  
There were several seconds pause as Uhura calculated the figure.  "Based on our location...the message was sent three days ago."  
  
"So they can't even be certain that we've received the orders," he continued, leaning back in the center seat.  
  
"No Mr. Scott, not for at least that much time."  
  
"Well then...there's no need for us to be acknowledging the order just yet.  We can wait a wee bit,"  
  
Uhura smiled at his back.  "Aye, Sir.  Should I recall the survey parties?"  
  
Scotty glanced back.  "Might as well make good use of the time while we're here, and have something to show when we're asked about our delay."  
  
"What about shore leave?" Chekov asked.  
  
Scotty smiled.  "Best not push our luck, lad."

 

 


	8. The Mistake - part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It could be that his...heritage has altered his telepathic abilities, and that this was inevitable if he engaged in melding."  
> McCoy, sensing the tension that had been created, diverted the topic. "How are these types of links usually broken in Vulcans?"  
> "They are not."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A shorter chapter this time, but we area heading right into some action in the next parts! Hope everyone is enjoying!

 

 

McCoy had four PADDs spread out on his desk, going over every scan he'd ever taken of Spock's brain and comparing them to textbooks and other Starfleet records of Vulcan readings where telepathy was concerned.  But there was nothing in any of them that was helpful.  Apparently all Vulcans were as secretive as Spock was regarding the species biology.  
  
A buzz at his office door pulled him out of his study, and with relief he admitted Dr. M'Benga and waved him to a chair.  
  
"So what'd your colleague say?"  
  
"Healer V'Les.  She was able to explain some things that I hadn't learned before," he said, leaning forward and folding his hands on the desk.  
  
McCoy waited, and the younger doctor furrowed his brow for a moment before raising it in perplexed resignation.  "There are different types of natural Vulcan mental links that are made intentionally.  The most common is the marriage bond, of course."  
  
"I know a little about that one.  Is that like what's happened to Jim and Spock?"  
  
M'Benga shook his head.  "No.  In that bond, the communication is only on a subconscious level.  It can become faintly empathic over the course of many years.  But it's not at all like what's happened here."  
  
"What do they call this, then?"  
  
"There are a couple of possibilities, based on what she told me.  The first is called _tel_ and is just the formation of a simple mental link, like the marriage bond.  Well, I say simple..."  
  
McCoy's eyes narrowed.  "Explain that."  
  
"It's the most basic type of telepathic bond between Vulcans, however if anything happens to one, it affects the other.  Death, for example.  When one bonded Vulcan dies, the other feels it and can sustain mental damage depending on how long the bond has existed.  Serious injury can also be felt.  I studied this during my internship."  
  
"But that's not what's going on here," McCoy stated.  
  
"No.  V'Les thinks our problem has to do with _kash-naf_ , a much deeper bond.  It's like a permanent mind meld, except that it can be controlled at will."  
  
"How?"  
  
"She described it to me as a window.  Standing inside a room, a window can be opened so that things can pass through from one side to the other.  Or it can be closed, but you can still see through the glass.  It can also be curtained so that vision through isn't possible, however it still exists, and you can feel the heat or cold of the outside through the window even though it is closed.  And you choose at will what state you want the window to be in."  
  
McCoy rubbed his chin and slowly nodded.  "Yes.  Yes, that all makes sense.  But that's not what we've got here.  This is like...multiple windows, all in different conditions."  
  
"Healer V'Les thinks that either by accident or design, a _kash-naf_ bond was formed between the captain and Mr. Spock, but it was done incorrectly.  For hundreds of years, all bonds on Vulcan have been created with a third party facilitating to ensure no damage.  And then there's the fact that Captain Kirk is human, and that Spock is only half-Vulcan."  
  
"Yes.  I wondered how much that plays into this," McCoy said, leaning forward anxiously.  
  
"V'Les doesn't know.  They'll have to be examined by a Vulcan healer before we can know the full extent of the damage to both of their minds, and if it can be reversed."  
  
The older doctor sank back with a frown.  "And then Command will find out, and they lose their commissions anyway."  
  
"Not necessarily, Leonard.  Healer V'Les is a member of the Vulcan Medical Institute, not Starfleet.  She's agreed not to say anything."  
  
McCoy's brow rose in hope.  "Is she going to come to the _Enterprise_?"  
  
"Unfortunately she can't get away.  She's stationed at the consulate on Coridan.  But she has a colleague on a ship in the Delta Geminorum system.  She suggested we contact them and try to schedule a rendezvous."  
  
McCoy frowned.  "There's a problem with that.  Scotty told me we received new orders."  
  
"New orders?  Did you tell Starfleet—?"  
  
"No, I told Scotty to keep this to ourselves.  We can probably delay here for a few days, but if we go joyriding out to Goren then Command is going to get mighty suspicious."  
  
M'Benga shifted in his seat, waiting for orders.  
  
"I think..." McCoy sighed after a moment, "that we'd better see what Jim and Spock want to do, before we decide anything."  
  
M'Benga nodded understandingly.  "Agreed."  
  
The two rose and walked the short distance to the privacy ward.  Inside, Spock lay on his biobed, hands clasped over his middle but his eyes open.  He could have been asleep, but the scanners showed otherwise.  Kirk was standing next to his own bed, facing away from Spock and looking agitated as his hands twisted in the material of the mattress.  
  
It was pathetic.  
  
McCoy mustered all of his professional manners and approached them with a smile.  
  
"All right," he said, getting their attention, "time for a visit from your friendly country doctor.  Sit yourself down Jim, so we can see how you're progressing."  
  
M'Benga moved dutifully over to Spock's side of the room while McCoy recorded Kirk's newest readings.  The Vulcan ignored the man in blue next to him, pushing himself up to look Kirk's way.  
  
"Well, your blood pressure is down a bit.  That's good news," McCoy said, thinking his pleasant tone didn't sound too forced.  But a quick glance at Spock informed him otherwise.  
  
"Doctor, Mr. Spock's psilosynine levels are far lower than usual," M'Benga interrupted.  
  
"Well of course they are," McCoy muttered, his face twisting.  "Telepathic exhaustion."  
  
Out of curiosity, he adjusted Kirk's scanner for the same chemical and found it extremely elevated.  "To look at Jim's levels you'd think he was a Vulcan."  
  
M'Benga stepped around and narrowed his eyes at the readings.  "I've never seen psilosynine so high in a human before.  Has this shown up in previous scans?"  
  
"You can check his records, but I doubt it," McCoy said.  M'Benga didn't move, so McCoy crossed his arms and eyed the two patients.  "Well...  Joseph's colleague at Vulcan Medical says that your problem is the result of an improperly-formed mental bond, and it will take examination by a Vulcan Healer to see if anything can be done about it."  
  
His words were very matter-of-fact, but the gravity of that single word 'if' was not lost on his patients.  
  
"Bones—" Kirk began, but stopped and glanced behind him when he heard Spock.  It was clear that it affected them each time they spoke together.  
  
Spock sat up and closed his eyes, putting a concerted effort into not speaking when he didn't want to.  After several seconds he nodded to Kirk to try again.  
  
"Bones—" both men spoke, and Kirk lowered his eyes a moment before continuing, "what happens if we..." he paused as Spock grimaced in pain, "...can't fix this?"  
  
McCoy looked back sadly.  "Well, I'm sure you've realized you can't command a starship in this condition."  
  
Kirk slowly sat back on the bed, a blank mask falling over his face.  "Give us our options, Doctor," both men spoke.  
  
McCoy looked at M'Benga with raised brow.  
  
"Best case scenario, a Vulcan Healer will be able to repair the damage and you both return to normal life.  Worst case scenario, you both go mad and die."  
  
"And if..." Kirk started, but stopped again hearing Spock.  
  
"No, I don't think there's a chance of things just staying as they are, or correcting themselves naturally," the younger doctor continued.  "The fact that it causes you pain when the other speaks is evidence enough that this isn't getting better.  Besides Captain, you are not telepathic and Spock is only half-Vulcan."  
  
The science officer's eyes snapped up at that, briefly looking at both medical men before settling at a point on Kirk's back.  
  
"It could be that his...heritage has altered his telepathic abilities, and that this was inevitable if he engaged in melding."  
  
Kirk glanced over his shoulder at Spock.  The man's face was absolute stone.  
  
McCoy, sensing the tension that had been created, diverted the topic.  "How are these types of links usually broken in Vulcans?"  
  
"They are not," Spock, with Kirk, answered, "except by death of one of the parties."  
  
McCoy pursed his lips.  "Oh."  
  
"As far as I know," M'Benga jumped in again, "bonding is uncommon in modern Vulcan culture outside of marriage anyway."  
  
Spock nodded that this was true.  McCoy rubbed his jaw thoughtfully.  
  
"Now, I'm not suggesting we try anything.  But hypothetically, what would happen if we just...separated them?  Does physical proximity make a difference?"  
  
"No," M'Benga said.  
  
"Yes," Spock, with Kirk, countered, "but only in how much communication is possible.  The bond cannot be broken even by a distance of several light years."  
  
Kirk grimaced in pain with each word.  
  
"Doesn't matter," McCoy said, eying Kirk, "I don't want you two leaving this sickbay till we get this sorted.  Joseph," he turned to his colleague, "do you know how to contact that other doctor your colleague mentioned was close by?"  
  
"She said that she is serving on the VSS _Selar_.  Should I send a message?"  
  
The wall comm whistled before McCoy could reply, and he stepped over to answer it as Scotty's voice came through.  
  
"Scott to McCoy."  
  
"Go ahead, Scotty."  
  
The voice was hushed when it answered.  "I've got...a wee bit of a problem, Doctor, that bears discussing."  
  
McCoy crossed his arms and frowned.  "All right, you'd better come down here."  
  
The channel closed, and McCoy leaned against the wall and eyed his two patients again, who finally looked slightly less distressed.  God forgive him for hoping something was wrong with the ship, just so those two would have something else to occupy them.  
  
"Should I contact the _Selar_?" M'Benga asked, approaching McCoy.  
  
"No...  Better wait until we find out what Scotty's problem is.  But keep researching this.  See if there's any recorded instances of a mind link being broken other than by death."  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, McCoy noticed a lightness come over Spock's face, but it was quickly darkened again.  After M'Benga was gone and the door resealed, he spoke.  
  
"Something, Spock?"  
  
The Vulcan shook his head, but McCoy looked at him encouragingly.  
  
"I thought...for a moment, Doctor," he said, Kirk matching him word for word, "but I am mistaken."  
  
Kirk pinched his eyes tighter with every word that was spoken.  It was clear he was fighting not to show the depth of pain he was in, and failing.  
  
McCoy started forward.  "Now, just because you think you're getting used to this..." he gestured in the air, searching for a word, but he couldn't find one and gave up, "doesn't make it safe.  Anything that causes any pain is to be avoided.  So...you two will just have to stop talking until this is over.  I don't mind waiting for you to write things down."  
  
Spock lifted an eyebrow, and looked like he wanted to say something.  He reached for the PADD and began writing, and McCoy stepped forward in interest.  
  
 ** _"If you would also deign to write your replies Doctor, I would be most appreciative.  In fact our communication efficiency should increase."_**  
  
McCoy gasped in genuine surprise, his brow furrowing in annoyance.  "Why you..." he turned away to hide the smile that quickly overtook his features, "you can't stop even when you're suffering, can you?"  
  
Kirk leaned forward to read the PADD and immediately began laughing.  
  
But so did Spock.  
  
Kirk stopped with a choke and moved to his first officer, apology on his face as he gripped the man's shoulders.  
  
McCoy's conflicting feelings evaporated and gave way to concern.  He considered a moment before speaking.  "I, uh...imagine this whole thing has been emotionally tasking for you, Spock."  
  
The Vulcan, having recovered, reached for the PADD and began writing again.  
  
 _ **"Due to the apparent damage, the Captain and I can only trade intentional speech.  Thoughts and emotions are not able to be communicated as they should be."**_  
  
"Oh," McCoy said after reading.  "So it's not that bad, then."  
  
Both men looked back incredulously and McCoy lifted a hand in defense.  "I just meant...you've got more individuality than you might.  Hopefully it's a good sign."  
  
A buzz at the door announced Scotty's presence, and McCoy called for him to enter.  The engineer looked uncharacteristically nervous when the door slid open, and Dr. M'Benga was lingering uncertainly behind him.  
  
"You'd both better come back in here," McCoy said.  "What's the problem, Scotty?"  
  
Scotty approached the biobeds and stood at the foot of Spock's, looking between Kirk and McCoy.  "We've received a message from the _Excalibur_.  They're on their way to take our place in the survey, and they'll be here in about five hours."  
  
"That's not _great_ news, but it's not horrible either," McCoy said, perplexed by Scotty's unease.  
  
"Commodore Stone is on board.  He's asked why we haven't acknowledged our new orders from Starfleet."  
  
"Stone?" Kirk burst out.  Of course, Spock was helpless to not speak with him.  "What's he doing on the _Excalibur_?"  
  
"No talking!" McCoy ordered, and Kirk clenched his jaw.  
  
"I couldn't tell you, Sir.  But his message didn't sound too pleasant.  I left the message unacknowledged and came straight here.  What should I say, Sir?"  
  
Kirk reached for the PADD and began writing, but he paused when the wall comm whistled.  "Bridge to Mr. Scott," Uhura's melodic voice came through the panel.  
  
The man in red hurried to answer.  "Scott here.  Go ahead, Lieutenant."  
  
"The _Excalibur_ is hailing us.  It's Commodore Stone."  
  
Scotty looked back to the other four men, who all looked suddenly as anxious as he did.  
  
"Eh...hold for a minute, Lieutenant," he said, and muted the comm.    
  
McCoy started forward.  "Get up there and stall them!  If they get suspicious and decide to beam over here, we're never going to get out of this."  
  
Scotty glanced past McCoy to Kirk, who sat slowly on the edge of his biobed.  He gave a resigned nod, and the engineer turned to go.  
  
But another comm whistle halted him.  He looked back at the others with trepidation as he answered it.  
  
"Mr. Scott," Uhura said, "Commodore Stone is hailing and insists on speaking with Captain Kirk."  
  
Kirk pushed himself off the bed again and took two steps toward the comm before stopping and looking back at Spock hopelessly.  The Vulcan appeared to be at a loss, his face providing no answers.  
  
Scotty took a deep breath.  "Acknowledged, Lieutenant.  Scott out," he said, and closed the channel.  He clenched his hands at his sides and stood at attention, waiting for instruction.  
  
McCoy took charge.  "Jim, if Command gets wind of this you're both done for."  
  
Kirk's brow was narrowed, and he held up a hand as he considered.  Then he turned to Spock, and the others watched a silent conversation take place.  
  
A few moments later, the lifting of Vulcan eyebrows gave them hope.  Kirk reached for the PADD and began writing hurriedly.  
  
When he finished, both doctors and the engineer crowded around it to read.  
  
 ** _"I'll go to the bridge and convince Stone we're staying here for a good reason.  As long as Spock is in sickbay, Stone won't know anything is wrong."_**  
  
The men looked at each other, considering.  
  
"It could work..." McCoy finally said, frowning.  
  
The comm whistled again.  
  
With authority, Kirk strode toward it and pressed the receiver with his palm and spoke without waiting to hear the call.  "I'll be on the bridge momentarily.  Apologize for the delay.  Kirk out."  
  
The others looked between their captain and Spock, who had of course spoken every word.  He looked distinctly unsettled.  
  
"Sheesh..." Scotty breathed, releasing the tension they all felt.  Kirk sank against the wall next to the comm and stared at Spock, looking far less confident.  
  
"But Leonard, what about the pain they experience when speaking?" M'Benga asked.  
  
"That's what's worrying me," McCoy said, looking at his patients.  "You've kept your speech limited so far.  What if talking more just makes this whole thing worse?"  
  
Spock then motioned for the PADD, and McCoy handed it to him.  He wrote for a few minutes before handing it back.  
  
 ** _"To protect our situation we have no other course than what the captain suggests.  I suggest, Doctor, that you and Mr. Scott accompany the captain to the bridge and speak for him as much as possible to minimize any potential risk.  I also suggest you carry a communicator, on which Dr. M'Benga can contact you if I demonstrate any ill effects from the captain's speech and actions."_**  
  
After reading, McCoy wordlessly passed the PADD to Scotty and M'Benga.  It actually made him feel better to read the logical and confident suggestions Spock had made.  
  
He waited for the others to finish reading, and noted that Spock and Kirk seemed to be discussing it silently as well.  
  
"What do you two think?" he finally asked M'Benga and Scotty.  
  
"It...seems like it could work," Scotty said, looking more relieved than his tone let on.  
  
"I'll want to stay here and monitor Mr. Spock constantly," M'Benga said.  
  
"Of course," McCoy agreed.  "And signal me with a communicator if we have to stop.  In case of any emergency, we'll just have to cut communications and beg forgiveness later."  
  
McCoy looked between Kirk and Spock and schooled his face to be stern.  "If it works, then we've bought ourselves more time.  But at the first sign of trouble, we stop.  That's an order."  
  
Kirk and Spock looked at each other across the room.  Then Kirk nodded his assent back to McCoy.  
  
"All right, then...  But Jim, you'd better change clothes first.  You look like you've been through it."  
  
Kirk looked down at the two-day uniform and grimaced.  With another look at Spock, he turned and left the privacy ward.  
  
"I'll call you before we get there," McCoy said, as he followed Kirk out.  
  
The remaining three men looked at each other.  
  
"And...I'd best get back up to the bridge and stall for time," Scotty said with a sigh.  
  
Spock held a hand up to halt him, and then wrote on the PADD.  
  
 ** _"The ship could be in no more capable hands, Mr. Scott,"_** is what the engineer read when the Vulcan finished.  
  
"I thank you Sir, but I'd rather face a whole Klingon fleet than a Starfleet desk commander."  
  
Spock wrote again.  **_"As would we all."_**  
  
Scotty grinned at Spock, and the Vulcan dipped his chin slightly.  The interference of officers who had never served in space command was universally disapproved of.  At least he wasn't going to be alone in this mess anymore.

 

 


	9. The Mistake - part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Lieutenants Scott and McCoy," the commodore interrupted, "why do you two keep looking at your captain as if you're surprised every time he speaks?"  
> McCoy bounced on his toes while Scotty looked at him helplessly. This wasn't one they had prepared for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This might be my favorite chapter of this arc. Comments always welcome!

 

 

 _Spock...?_  
  
_Yes, Jim?_  
  
Kirk and McCoy were drawing stunned stares as they walked briskly through the corridors to the captain's quarters.  
  
Kirk set his face and avoided eye contact with everyone.  
  
_Oh, that's strange..._  
  
_What is strange?_  
  
_Talking to you without seeing you._  
  
_We do so on communicators, and on the shipboard comm system._  
  
_But not...telepathically.  We're supposed to know each other's thoughts like this.  This is just...  I_ know _that it's incomplete.  So it's strange._  
  
Silence.  Kirk clenched his fists as he illogically began to panic.  
  
_Spock!?_  
  
And then he realized, none of his urgency, none of the emotion could be felt.  It was worse than talking by communicator.  
  
_Here, Captain._  
  
_I know it's illogical, but please acknowledge whenever I speak._  
  
Another silence, but it was quickly broken.  
  
_It is not illogical, Jim._  
  
_You know...  I don't like this._  
  
_It is incomplete communication, you are correct.  It is not desirable._  
  
Kirk and McCoy reached Kirk's quarters and stepped inside.  
  
"You know Jim—" McCoy started, but stopped when Kirk suddenly held up a hand.  
  
_Hold on a minute, Spock._  
  
Kirk lowered his hand and nodded at McCoy.  
  
The doctor stared in confusion for a moment, but then narrowed his eyes.  
  
"Were you talking to Spock?" he asked, realization hitting him.  
  
Kirk nodded.  
  
McCoy thought a moment.  "What's that like?"  
  
Kirk shook his head and lifted his hands helplessly.  Then he moved to his desk and picked up one of the many PADDs and began writing.  
  
**_"It's all wrong without the fullness of the mind meld."_**  
  
McCoy read the PADD and looked at Kirk in interest.  
  
"So you enjoy mind melds, huh?  They're...pleasurable?"  
  
Kirk's face relaxed a bit, and he nodded.  
  
"Always looked painful to me."  
  
Kirk's face lightened more and he shook his head, reaching for the PADD.  But he paused, looking torn by something.  
  
"You can tell me about it when this is all over.  Right now, we've got to get you up to the bridge so we can get rid of Stone and get back to work on this thing."  
  
Kirk sighed through his nose and shook his head again.  He pulled a fresh uniform from the bureau and disappeared into the bathroom.  
  
McCoy sighed quite loudly and took a few steps around the room, taking in the scene.  
  
A chess game appeared to be in progress, taking up one portion of Kirk's desk.  The rest of it was covered in PADDs with reports from the current survey mission.  And amid them, a cup of half-finished tea and a tumbler of brandy sat cold.  
  
It was a picture of the working relationship and friendship of the two men who were now his patients, and whom he was currently powerless to help.  
  
McCoy thought to his own friends, all doctors, and all serving on other ships or planets or bases.  He'd never encountered the problems of losing friends from the lower ranks since he'd entered Starfleet on a commission.  
  
But Kirk, Starfleet's youngest captain in history, had been plucked up from out of his circles with transfer after transfer, following each promotion.  Now he was an island on a ship of over 400 people.  His ship, and regulations wouldn't even permit he truly be a part of it.  
  
And then there was Spock, who had only ever served on the _Enterprise_.  
  
Scotty said the Vulcan had made no friends in the past, and when McCoy joined the ship shortly after Kirk took command it appeared to the doctor that the only friends Spock had were in fact the captain and chief engineer.  The other few relationships he was seeming to build had all taken place under Kirk's command.  
  
McCoy disposed of the two unfinished beverages and reset the chess board to busy himself.  He really couldn't blame his two friends for an attempt at connection in such a lonely place as theirs.  And who was he to judge an alien method of close communion?  No past evidence suggested anything was wrong with it.  For all the evidence proved, it was just their own loneliness that had driven them too far.  
  
When it was all over, assuming a positive outcome, McCoy decided he would need to spend much more time in the role of counselor than he already did.  And possibly communicate with Starfleet Command about revising the regulations on counseling for officers.  
  
After all, if it could happen to his friends, it could happen on any ship.

* * *

  
_I'm sorry we have to do this.  But Bones is right, we'd lose our ranks if not more if this gets around to headquarters._  
  
Kirk had freshened up and changed his uniform, and was now combing his hair to complete the look of a perfectly composed starship commander.  
  
In the silence, which he now found extremely unusual, he realized how little like himself he had felt since they had left the meld.  He spent the minutes focusing on regaining those airs that had helped him in so many situations throughout his career, and looking at himself in the mirror he was feeling more confident about speaking to Commodore Stone.  
  
The only problem was how it would affect Spock.  
  
_I do not wish your command jeopardized.  It is worth the risk._  
  
_But we've seen that when we speak, the other is in pain.  Are you able to control any of it?_  
  
_Somewhat.  That part of my mind has apparently been affected as well._  
  
Kirk closed his eyes.  _I'm sorry, Spock._  
  
_Captain, please stop apologizing.  This was my choice.  The problems we are now facing are my fault._  
  
Kirk disagreed, but knew he couldn't win the argument and so said nothing.  
  
_I'll be glad to get back to sickbay.  I want to look at you when I talk to you._  
  
_I find the experience disquieting as well._  
  
_Although...I do think it's better than nothing._  
  
_Agreed._  
  
Kirk left his bathroom and found McCoy arranging all the PADDs on his desk.  He couldn't help but smile.  
  
McCoy looked up.  "You keep an awfully messy work space, you know that Jim?"  
  
Kirk's smile grew, and he nodded toward the door.  
  
The doctor stepped out from behind the desk and looked him over.  "Well...you look decidely more like a human being.  Let's get this over with."  
  
The men left the cabin and made the short walk to the turbolift.  On the way, Kirk was able to smile and nod at passing crewmen, who looked rather surprised to see him.  It occurred to him suddenly, that from the one man who had seen them leave his quarters earlier a wildfire of gossip could have spread throughout the ship.  He'd have to ask Uhura to check on it once Stone had been dealt with.  
  
"Now," McCoy said, once they were traveling in the lift, "Leave as much talking to me and Scotty as you can.  If Joseph signals that this is too much for Spock, you'd better have an excuse ready to cut communications."  
  
Kirk nodded.  
  
McCoy adjusted the strap of the tricorder he'd brought, the emergency medkit, and lastly the communicator hidden behind his back.  
  
"Hopefully we'll have a minute and I can give some kind of instructions to everyone else.  They should look like everything is normal too," he muttered, moving the medkit to the other side of his waist.  
  
Kirk reached out and put a hand on the doctor's arm.  
  
McCoy looked up into the confident eyes of his friend.  
  
"Well...I'm glad you're feeling okay about this.  One of us should."  
  
The lift doors slid open and both men tensed seeing that the face of Commodore Stone was already filling the viewscreen.  
  
Commodore Stone was a wise and reasonable man, but entirely by-the-book.  And his harsh opinion of starship captains who sometimes ignored that book was legendary.  
  
Kirk closed his eyes briefly.  
  
_Okay Spock, here we go.  I'll talk as little as possible._  
  
_Acknowledged._  
  
Kirk stepped out onto the threshhold of the bridge and was met with the amazed, relieved, and questioning eyes of his officers.  It was obvious that Scotty hadn't had time to prepare them either.  But he didn't have time to think about that as Commodore Stone immediately took notice of him.  
  
"Captain Kirk," the man greeted blankly, his face unmoving.  "I was beginning to wonder if you commanded the _Enterprise_ by proxy."  
  
Kirk clenched his fists as he felt McCoy step up next to him.  He opened his mouth to speak, but didn't get the chance.  
  
"The captain has been in sickbay checking on an extremely ill crewman," the doctor said stiffly.  
  
Stone looked at the doctor, apparently surprised.  
  
"That is commendable, Captain," Stone addressed Kirk, "but in your absence your officers have failed to follow protocols.  Why haven't you acknowledged your orders to proceed to Deep Space K-7?"  
  
Kirk opened his mouth again, but this time Scotty beat him to it.  
  
"Captain," the engineer spoke as he rose from the command chair, "I've already explained to the commodore that it's taking time to recall our survey parties because of the kelbonite.  Not all of them are in safe locations to beam yet."  
  
Stone looked at Scotty intently, and then back to Kirk.  His brow was beginning to furrow.  
  
"I'm...sorry, Commodore," Kirk said, stepping down to the chair and seating himself with an abashed grin.  "My concern for my crewman has been weighing on me."  
  
The commodore's face returned to its usual stoicism, and Kirk relaxed slightly.  
  
"What is the nature of the illness?" Stone asked.  
  
"I'm sure you know that's confidential," McCoy said, moving down to stand alongside Kirk again, opposite Scotty.  "Doctor-patient confidentiality—"  
  
"I'm aware of medical regulations, Doctor," Stone interrupted, "but they do not absolve a captain of his responsibilities.  Captain, I ask you again—why in your absence did your conn officer fail to acknowledge your new orders?"  
  
Kirk hesitated a moment, and it was long enough for Scotty to jump in again.  
  
"Commodore Stone, the fault is entirely mine."  
  
Kirk looked at him sharply.  
  
"I neglected that duty in favor of making sure the survey parties were all beamed up safely.  It was my error Sir, not the captain's."  
  
Kirk wanted to hug Scotty at the same time he wanted to punch him.  His loyalty was deserving of a commendation (that he could never receive), but it wasn't worth his career.  
  
"Captain Kirk," Stone spoke sternly, and Kirk's attention snapped back to him.  "I ask you again—do you run your starship by proxy?  I would think that if so, you would choose one more competent at least."  
  
Every body on the bridge stiffened, and Kirk clenched his jaw a moment as he gathered himself.  And then drawing up all of his diplomatic strength, he lifted his hands in a shrug and then sighed.  
  
"Mr. Scott, your loyalty is commendable but it just won't do.  Commodore, when the order came in I put a hold on acknowledging it while I was down in sickbay.  I know that regulations require that all Command orders be acknowledged immediately upon receipt, but I was distracted and..." he took a breath, "I...ignored regulations."  
  
Stone's eyes had narrowed upon Kirk's admission, and he seemed to be judging its veracity.  
  
Kirk, meanwhile, felt a prickling in the front of his mind and worried about Spock.  But he didn't dare speak to him, in case he made a mistake on the bridge.  He could only hope he wouldn't have to say much more.

* * *

  
"I was distracted and...I...ignored regulations," Spock echoed Kirk's words.  
  
M'Benga frowned at the long statement, much longer than either of them had made so far.  
  
Spock's hands flew to his temples when the words finally ended, and his eyes closed as he struggled to manage the pain.  
  
"Is it very bad?" the doctor asked.  
  
Spock nodded.  "Worse with each—"  
  
"Stop!" M'Benga cried, and grabbed the Vulcan around the neck, covering his mouth with one hand.  
  
Spock's eyes widened as he realized what he'd done.

* * *

  
"Worse with each—" Kirk said, and covered his mouth with a hand, his eyes wide.  
  
Stone blinked in confusion at Kirk's actions, and the bridge officers likewise looked at their captain questioningly.  
  
Scotty and McCoy looked at each other quickly, and then at Kirk, quickly masking their concern.  They knew exactly what had happened, but could do nothing to help him this time.  
  
"Captain?" Stone said.  
  
Kirk quickly dropped his hand and sat up straighter, composing himself.  He took a long breath.  
  
"The negative impact on crew morale...is worse with each death," Kirk said.  
  
Scotty and Mccoy glanced at each other as they relaxed.  
  
"Truthfully Commodore, we don't know if the sick crewman will survive.  He is very well-liked on the _Enterprise_ , and his death would affect everyone, including myself," Kirk finished skillfully.

* * *

  
Spock continued holding his forehead with one hand, while the other gestured toward the PADD and stylus.  
  
M'Benga had released him as he realized Kirk was speaking, and Spock favored the man with a decidedly annoyed look throughout Kirk's recovery speech from the error.  
  
He wrote quickly on the PADD and M'Benga read over his shoulder as he did so.  
  
"We should have thought of that before," the doctor answered what Spock had written, and the two men strode quickly into McCoy's office and hunched over his desk, where Spock deftly tied the computer in to the bridge monitor.  "Now we won't be surprised."

* * *

  
"Death, Captain?  You expect to lose this man?" the commodore asked.  
  
Kirk started speaking but McCoy cut him off.  
  
"We're not sure yet, but the condition has a history of always being fatal."  
  
"What is the condition?"  
  
"I remind you again, Commodore, of doctor-patient confidentiality," McCoy said tensely, his temper starting to come forward.  
  
"But if there were risk of an epidemic, regulations require you report the possibility, along with the patient's records," Stone countered.  
  
McCoy bounced on his toes in annoyance.  "There will be no epidemic," he said.  "It's not contagious."  
  
The commodore glanced away and appeared to be deciding something, when suddenly his brow rose and he looked back at Kirk.  
  
"Captain Kirk...where is your first officer?"  
  
"He is in sickbay, looking after the sick crewman," McCoy said, beating Kirk again.  
  
Kirk shifted in his seat, crossing his legs one way and then the other.  It was irritating to not be able to defend himself.  But the prickling feeling in his head was growing now each time he spoke.  
  
"He is not the one who is ill, by chance?" Stone asked.  
  
"Negative," McCoy said firmly.  
  
Stone looked between McCoy and Kirk, his gaze darkening.  "Captain, does your chief medical officer always speak for you on the bridge?"  
  
"My officers speak within their field of authority.  Doctor McCoy's is the health of the crew," Kirk responded crisply.  
  
Onscreen, the commodore made a gesture and then began speaking to someone on the bridge of the _Excalibur_.  He had muted communications, so what was said couldn't be heard.  Kirk looked up at McCoy and Scotty nervously, wondering what they would have to argue next.  
  
"Captain," the commodore said a few moments later, "are you certain it is not your first officer who is ill?"  
  
"Quite certain," Kirk said.  
  
The commodore's gaze darkened again.  Kirk swallowed nervously.  
  
"After I discovered that you had not acknowledged your new orders, I had your ship's communications monitored.  If it is not Commander Spock who is ill, why was a communication sent from your sickbay to the Vulcan Consulate on Coridan, to an individual named...Healer V'Les?"  
  
Kirk tensed, and McCoy and Scotty looked at each other again.  M'Benga must not have thought to use any encryption on his communication.  
  
Kirk licked his lips and mentally kept count of the seconds passing in silence as he searched desperately for a response, this time hoping the doctor or engineer would have something  
  
They didn't.  
  
One...  
  
Two...  
  
Three...  
  
Commodore Stone frowned deeply.  But as he opened his mouth to speak—  
  
_Doctor M'Benga, one of our medical staff, was consulting with the healer about the ill crewman._  
  
Realization striking, Kirk began repeating the words aloud even as he heard them in his mind.  It was an extremely difficult task, and the prickling feeling at his forehead grew more intense.  
  
The commodore was cut off by Kirk's pronouncement, and looked at him curiously, doubtfully.  
  
Kirk assumed the strange combination of telepathic and verbal speech must have been difficult for Spock too, because he didn't continue until Kirk had finished repeating that statement.  He remembered then that when he spoke, so did Spock, with absolutely no control.  Kirk was sure that for him the feat Spock was accomplishing would be impossible.  
  
_Healer V'Les has experience..._ "...with the specific condition our crewman is suffering.  Doctor M'Benga was aware of this."  
  
Stone still looked suspicious.  "...How?"  
  
"During his internship...Doctor M'Benga worked under Healer V'Les...in the Vulcan ward of the Federation hospital in...Alpha Centauri City."  
  
The prickling feeling grew, and Spock's words were more halted that time.  Kirk looked up at McCoy with a smile and a slight question, as if to ask if he was correct.  The doctor caught the look and nodded.  
  
_Spock, you're watching this?_ Kirk finally dared to think back.  
  
_Affirmative._  
  
_Just speak_ for _me!_  
  
Kirk forced a relaxed expression as words no longer his left his lips at his direction.  He noticed there was a slight mechanical quality to his voice, as if he was reading from a script.  He'd been able to add his own inflection just listening to Spock.  He was also acutely aware that the prickling in his head had become needles of pain that drove deeper with each word his friend spoke.  
  
"The communication was invaluable, as this case shows more hope of recovery than any known case of this ailment in recorded history."  
  
McCoy and Scotty stared at Kirk, and finally realizing what was going on looked at each other nervously.  There had already been one slip-up, and now the risk was much higher.  
  
"Lieutenants Scott and McCoy," the commodore interrupted, "why do you two keep looking at your captain as if you're surprised every time he speaks?"  
  
Kirk stiffened and glared at Stone, which was easy to do with the pain now throbbing at his forehead.  He could pretend to be nice, but not when his officers were being insulted.  
  
McCoy bounced on his toes while Scotty looked at him helplessly.  This wasn't one they had prepared for.  
  
The rest of the bridge crew had been listening in silence to the entire exchange, and their relief at seeing Kirk had quickly disappeared in favor of confusion as he was in their eyes, clearly ill-at-ease.  And those who knew their captain well knew something was wrong.  It was confirmed now as they looked at the doctor and chief engineer, who were at a complete loss.  
  
McCoy quickly decided he'd get out of the condemning question Stone had asked the way he'd gotten out of a lot of things—by being insubordinate.  But before he could raise a fuss, the communicator on his belt beeped twice.  
  
Kirk whirled in the chair and looked at him.  
  
That was the signal.  Spock was in trouble.  
  
"Lieutenant Uhura," Kirk said with authority, taking back command of the situation, "please acknowledge our orders from Starfleet Command.  How long until the rest of the survey parties are safely beyond the influence of the kelbonite and can be beamed back aboard?"  
  
Now his own words sent waves of pain through his head, and he fought just to sit upright in the chair.  
  
Uhura, startled, quickly turned to her board and made the calculations.  "Approximately...four hours, Sir.  Except we're not certain of team two, they should have checked in six minutes ago and they haven't."  
  
Kirk heard past the pain and genuine concern won for a moment.  "Contact them, Lieutenant."  It was all he could say though, before a seeming dagger went through his forehead.  He held himself utterly still.  
  
"Four hours?" Stone interrupted.  
  
"Commodore," Kirk said, standing slowly.  He bowed his head briefly to hide a wince of pain.  "I have been properly reprimanded for my delay in acknowledging orders, so there is no need for this communication to continue if all you intend to do is insult my officers' and my crew's performance.  Especially not while we have men possibly in danger on a Prime Directive protected planet and..." he paused, biting down against a cry of pain, "a dangerously ill man in sickbay."  
  
McCoy's communicator beeped a second time.  Kirk stepped around the doctor and paused on the stairs leading to the turbolift, turning back to the screen.  
  
"If you believe my command decisions deserve inquiry you have the authority to put me on report.  But I stand by my actions, and those of my crew, who follow my orders," he said steadily.  "I'd like to say we can discuss this in person when you arrive, but...I'm afraid we'll be on our way to Deep Space K-7 by then."  
  
The last word was choked out, and he shook himself slightly to stay upright.  The pain in his head overwhelmed his vision and the perplexed face of the commodore blurred in front of him.  
  
" _Enterprise_ out," he said, and signaled Uhura with a hand to cut communications.  
  
He waited until he was certain the screen had gone dark, and then his hands flew to his head as he buckled in pain.  
  
"Jim!" he heard McCoy cry, but he didn't even try to listen.  His will had been exhausted in maintaining normalcy for the commodore, and now he let his body fall with the pain that was exploding in his head.  
  
He was aware of his knees hitting the deck, and then his side, and his head as he fell down the stairs.  The impact of his head made the pain worse and he cried out in agony.  
  
Above and around him was the sound of voices and movement.  He heard Uhura's worried cry, McCoy's comforting drawl, Scotty's commanding brogue, and Sulu's perplexed baritone.  
  
He remembered then a voice he hadn't heard in minutes, and through the agony he cried out with his mind.  
  
_Spock!  Spock!_  
  
There was something terrifying in the silence that answered him, and he opened his eyes and tried to push himself up.  
  
Above him, he saw McCoy and Sulu looking at him worriedly, and farther back he could see Scotty issuing a command of some sort.  
  
"Bones..." he gasped, the one spoken word sending fire through his head.  His head lolled back but he fought his way upward again.  He had to get his message out.  "Spock..."  
  
The final word was too much, and he collapsed unconscious onto the deck.  
  


* * *

  
"Doctor, what's wrong with him?" Sulu asked over his shoulder.  
  
McCoy ignored the question in favor of answering the incessantly beeping communicator.  
  
"Joseph?" he said as he scanned Kirk.  His blood pressure had risen again, and his heart rate was elevated.  There were also some unusual readings in the prefrontal cortex that hadn't been there before, but McCoy thought it could have something to do with the psilosynine which was now off the scale.  
  
"Doctor," M'Benga's voice came through the small box, "Mr. Spock is unconscious."  
  
"So's Kirk," McCoy answered.  "Is he stable?"  
  
"Enough."  
  
McCoy sighed.  "Okay.  I'll be right down.  And we're _not_ trying anything like that again."  
  
"Agreed."  
  
"McCoy out."  He closed the communicator and replaced it on his belt.  
  
He was aware of an odd silence, and looked up to see every face on the bridge turned toward him.  They were worried, questioning, and extremely confused.  He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head.  He knew he had to say something.  
  
Slowly, he stood up.  "Sulu, you and Chekov get the captain to the turbolift," he said with an exasperated sigh.  
  
"Should I call an emergency medical team, Doctor?" Uhura asked.  
  
"No...  But clear the corridors to sickbay," he said.  He looked up at everyone, his friends and the other bridge officers, making eye contact with each of them.  "Now listen up.  If you ever want to see the captain and Spock in good health again...and if you know what's good for you," he added threateningly, "you won't say a word about this to anyone.  In fact, it never happened.  Is that clear?"  
  
A chorus of startled "yes"'s rose up from the various stations, and from the two helm officers as they returned to their posts.  
  
"Scotty, you stay here in case Stone calls again."  
  
"Aye..." the Scotsman said, his shoulders sinking.  
  
McCoy walked up to the lift, then paused with a thought.  "And Lieutenant, you'd better have that emergency team meet us at the turbolift after all."  
  
"Yes, Doctor," she said, and McCoy heard her make the call as the doors closed.  
  
Inside the lift, McCoy knelt next to his friend.  A sheen of sweat had developed on Kirk's skin and was starting to soak through his uniform, and his face was lined in pain.  
  
"Jim?" he said, tilting the man's chin up with two fingers.  "Jim?"  
  
The captain's head fell limply to the side, but his face tensed in pain.  McCoy scanned him again.  The pain reading was so high that he shouldn't be unconscious.  He suspected similar readings for Spock down in sickbay.  
  
"Well Jim, we're in trouble.  And I don't know if I can get us out of this one."  
  


* * *

  
On the bridge, Scotty leaned heavily against the back of the command chair.  He took a moment to catch his breath, not realizing how tense he had been during the encounter with the commodore.  And Kirk's subsequent collapse in front of everyone hadn't made his position any easier.  He thought again what he wouldn't give for a Klingon fleet to combat.  
  
"Mr. Scott, are you all right?" Chekov asked, having reseated himself at his station.  
  
"Yes lad," he replied, straightening.  He looked around at the shocked and worried faces of the other officers.  "A...question for you all, off the record," he began.  "How convincing were we just now, trying to get rid of that commodore?"  
  
The others looked at each other uneasily, and Scotty felt a lump form in his throat.  
  
Sulu spoke first.  "It was all right Sir, up until the end, in my opinion."  
  
The others were silent for a moment, and then from Uhura, "And that...strange slip the captain made before, something about each death being worse."  
  
"Aye," Scotty nodded, his eyes widening.  Kirk's recovery from what he knew was really Spock's mistake had been impressive.  "So...you think the commodore was fooled, then?"  
  
"Perhaps," Chekov said.  
  
Scotty sighed and sat heavily in the command chair.  His only consolation was that they wouldn't have to deal with Stone face-to-face.  That would be a nearly impossible feat, even for his commanding officers.  
  
"Mr. Scott, should I recall the survey parties?" Uhura spoke up.  
  
"Aye Lieutenant, follow the captain's orders."  
  
"Yes, Sir...and Sir?  Team two still does not respond."  
  
Scotty turned the chair to look at her.  "How long have they been out of contact?"  
  
"Their last check-in was six hours ago, according to regulations."  
  
"And you can't raise them now?"  
  
"No, Mr. Scott."  
  
Scotty thought a moment.  "Mr. Chekov, take over the library computer station.  Scan the team's last known location on the planet's surface."  
  
The young ensign displaced the junior science officer who had been at the station, and followed through with the order.  Less than a minute later he had his report.  
  
"No human life readings at team two's last known position."  
  
Scotty turned the chair toward him and frowned.  "Expand search radius.  Five miles all directions."  
  
Chekov gazed into the scanner and then shook his head slowly.  "No human life readings, Mr. Scott."  
  
Scotty turned to Uhura.  "And all the other teams have checked in?"  
  
"They've started beaming back now, Sir," she said.  
  
"All right, continue to expand search radius, mile by mile."  
  
"Aye Sir...but Sir, continuing north there are kelbonite deposits.  Impossible to be certain of life readings in the areas of heaviest concentration."  
  
Scotty mused for a moment that without the accent, Chekov could almost sound like a certain Vulcan he knew.  
  
"Keep scanning anyway, Mr. Chekov.  We check everywhere."  
  
"Mr. Scott," Sulu spoke up from the helm, "long-range sensors show that the _Excalibur_ has increased speed to warp 6."  
  
Scotty muttered a gaelic curse.  "That will get them here in...nigh to two hours," he said with a frown.  
  
"I guess Commodore Stone wants that personal conversation with the captain anyway," Sulu said.  
  
Scotty gripped the arms of the chair briefly before standing.  "Well, he's not going to get it.  Mr. Sulu, you have the conn," he said, taking brisk steps toward the turbolift.  
  


* * *

  
Numerous beeps and trills filled the still room of the privacy ward.  To a visitor, they would be background noise, possibly distracting.  But to Dr. McCoy each had a meaning.  And for his two friends lying on the biobeds none of those meanings were good.  
  
The worst was the high-pitched whine of the pain indicator, showing that even in unconsciousness the men had no rest.  Occasionally both would have involuntary jerks of pain, but they remained stubbornly in their own dark world, out of contact with McCoy.  
  
The doctor had been standing near the foot of one bed, but now he stepped slowly in between the two.  The beeps and whines and trills continued as he looked at the pain-lined features of each man.  Medical science as he knew it couldn't explain it, and as a result he couldn't do anything.  
  
"Jim...  Spock..." he said quietly, "I don't know if you can hear me...  But if you can, know that I'm going to do whatever it takes to get you out of this.  I just...don't have any answers right now."  
  
Behind him he heard the door slide open, and he turned as Dr. M'Benga walked in.  
  
"There's nothing I can find in the Starfleet or Vulcan databases about this.  It looks like we've got a brand new telepathic condition for the books," the young doctor said.  
  
"You know..." McCoy said, turning back to look at his patients again, "I don't think I could be excited about it even if it weren't Jim and Spock.  The pain they're in..." he said, shaking his head.  
  
"I'm not excited either," M'Benga said, coming to a stop beside Kirk's bed, "but if what we learn helps others in the future..."  
  
He let the thought trail off, and McCoy nodded his understanding and agreement.  
  
"That's the way it is with anything," the older doctor said absentmindedly.  "Like being in the dark ages..."  
  
M'Benga's brow drew in worry.  "What's wrong, Leonard?"  
  
McCoy blinked and seemed to shake himself inwardly.  He glanced briefly at the younger man.  "It's the helplessness, I suppose.  Knowing there's absolutely nothing we can do.  We can't even stop their pain."  
  
"Do you want me to contact V'Les's colleague?"  
  
McCoy crossed his arms and frowned.  "No...not with the _Excalibur_ monitoring communications.  They'd be even more suspicious of an encrypted message now.  Blast the bureaucracy!" he said, shaking his head.  
  
"What about a shuttle?"  
  
McCoy looked at his colleague in confusion.  
  
"I could go to the _Selar_ and bring back the other healer with me."  
  
"Assuming they'll come at all," McCoy said.  
  
M'Benga leaned forward on the edge of the bed.  "What other options do we have?"  
  
The words were said respectfully, but he had made his point.  McCoy looked back to the two pain-lined faces before him.  "All right, but we need to talk it over with—"  
  
A buzz at the door cut him off, and he walked over to answer it.  When it slid open, Scotty stood there with his hands behind his back, holding his breath.  
  
McCoy looked at him for a moment before waving him in and sighing.  "We did our best, Scotty," he said, "I just hope it wasn't for nothing."  
  
"Well, uh..." Scotty began, and McCoy turned back sharply, his eyes hardening.  
  
"What?"  
  
"That's what I'm here about... But, how are the captain and Mr. Spock?"  
  
McCoy stepped over to the side of Spock's bed.  "You can see for yourself.  They're in excruciating pain, and medication hasn't helped at all.  They should be awake, but they're not.  And I don't dare try any stimulants.  Not with Spock's loss of psilosynine, and Jim's blood pressure."  
  
Scotty stepped closer, looking at the two men spasmodically flinching and twitching on the biobeds.  
  
"What's...psilosynine?"  
  
M'Benga folded his hands thoughtfully.  "It's a neurostransmitter that naturally occurs in most telepathic species and is involved in telepathic processes.  See when I switch the scanner," he said, changing the readout on Kirk's screen, "the level is indicated here."  
  
"But the captain isn't telepathic, why does he have so much of the stuff?"  
  
"Prolonged telepathic contact will elevate the levels in a non-telepathic species.  This is the highest I have ever seen it in a human," M'Benga said.  
  
"And Spock's is extremely low," McCoy said, adjusting the scanner above Spock's bed.  He looked across the two prone men to his colleague.  "Do you know how that will affect his other brain functions?  His body functions?"  
  
"In a normal Vulcan it would diminish the control they have over their body functions.  They can't go into a healing trance without it, and their telepathic ability would be less...precise.  There could also be some loss of emotional control.  They would still function entirely normally though, no one would notice a change in behavior."  
  
"But Mr. Spock is half-human," Scotty said.  
  
"That's part of what's making this so difficult," McCoy said.  "We can't just open up a textbook.  But, Joseph has an idea that we need to talk over with you about this."  
  
"Since communications are being monitored and we have to continue on our new orders, I could take a shuttle to rendezvous with the Vulcan ship _Selar_ and bring back their healer," M'Benga said, straightening up.  
  
Scotty bowed his head, and then turned his gaze to McCoy.  "There's a problem with that."  
  
The older doctor's face twisted.  "What now?"  
  
"The _Excalibur_ has increased speed and will be here in less than two hours.  They're trying to get here before we're ready to break orbit."  
  
McCoy's features hardened.  
  
"And that's not all.  We've lost contact with one of the survey teams and we cannot locate them on the planet's surface.  We're going to be sitting right here when Commodore Stone arrives."

 

 


	10. The Mistake - part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapel sighed. "Everyone must be wondering by now."  
> "I know," McCoy said worriedly. "But this isn't—" He stopped himself and studied her for several seconds. Finally, he frowned and shook his head. "This can't get out. It would be their careers. And now it might even be their lives."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story is taking me all sorts of places I didn't expect! But that's part of the fun of writing it. Hope you enjoy!

 

 

Christine Chapel had chosen a table in the corner of the mess hall, hoping to avoid conversation that afternoon.  She was still rankled that Dr. McCoy had not allowed her to assist in the treatment of the captain and Mr. Spock and didn't want to betray what little she knew by angrily blurting something out over lunch.  Thankfully, no one had as yet offered to join her and she ate her meal in relative peace, brooding over the situation.  
  
She wasn't unintelligent, so she knew that whatever was wrong had to be unique to Vulcans, considering the behaviors her commanding officers had exhibited in the mere minutes she had seen them that day.  But for the life of her she couldn't figure out how Captain Kirk would be involved.  And it frustrated her even further.  
  
Her internal grumbling was halted though when voices from a nearby table drew her attention with the use of the first officer's name.  She looked over to see four engineers eating their own lunches and leaning in close as one that she recognized from somewhere spoke.  
  
"They were both staring at each other like they couldn't understand Standard anymore," the engineering crewman said.  
  
"But nothing looked wrong with them?" another engineer asked with wide-eyes as he bit into his sandwich.  
  
"Nothing.  They were conscious.  No apparent injuries.  They were even half-upright on the gurneys.  But Doctor McCoy looked really spooked."  
  
Chapel set her fork down with a frown, turning to face them full on as they gossipped.  She realized then that the crewman she recognized had been working outside the captain's quarters that morning when she arrived with the emergency team.  This was exactly what the doctor had told her to watch out for.  
  
"Something's definitely wrong," the only officer—an ensign—at the table spoke.  "Mr. Scott was called to sickbay barely forty minutes into alpha shift and hasn't been back to engineering all day."  
  
"That's right," the fourth crewman spoke up, "and he hasn't even called anyone in to cover him.  Whatever it is, it's got to be serious."  
  
The first crewman drank from his glass and then leaned back with a mischievous grin.  "Maybe they discovered that human and Vulcan genitalia aren't entirely compatible."  
  
The other three laughed while Chapel rose and stepped purposefully toward them, her heart pounding.  Their disrespect was outrageous!  
  
She didn't stop until her legs brushed up against the edge of the table, startling all four of them to look up into her steely gaze.  
  
"If I were you, I wouldn't speak so stupidly about your commanding officers.  Especially not when your immediate superior is currently in sickbay, which is where I'm headed right now.  And I'm feeling rather chatty after hearing you boys's conversation."  
  
The three enlisted men looked properly terrified.  Inwardly, Chapel was pleased.  She had been told she lacked the bedside manner of a nurse, but she knew it could be a strength to be as cold as she had just effected in front of the engineers.  
  
The ensign rose to his feet and met Chapel's eyes.  "I apologize for myself and the crewmen, Nurse," he said, and sounded genuine.  "Of course we wouldn't want anything bad to happen to the captain or the commander."  
  
"I suggest then if you have anything to say, that it be just that," she said, staring at each of them in turn.  They had the good sense to look guilty.  
  
"Nurse," the ensign continued, "may we ask...what's wrong with them?"  
  
Chapel skillfully maintained her poise.  "I couldn't tell you about anyone's medical problems, Ensign.  Just as I wouldn't tell your friends about yours."  
  
"Of course," the Ensign said, looking at his toes.  
  
Chapel nodded once in dismissal, and the ensign sat down.  She kept her head high as she went back for her tray to take it to the recycler, but inwardly she was still seething.  She was aware of many sets of eyes on her as she crossed the mess half, and realized that many other people would definitely now be talking about the captain and Mr. Spock.  
  
It was inevitable she knew, since they hadn't been on the bridge that day.  A starship crew notices the absence of its captain and first officer, even when everything else seems normal.  But hopefully the speculations would be limited.  She knew she would have to make sure the medical staff was following the order to be silent, if it was to stay that way.  
  


* * *

  
"And you think everybody was listening?" McCoy asked as Chapel relayed the events that had transpired in the mess hall.  
  
"By the time I left they were."  
  
McCoy slowly shook his head and frowned.  "I know what Spock would say.  Humans have an uncanny tendency to recognize tension in a room and pay attention to it."  
  
Chapel sighed.  "They seemed to.  But everyone must be wondering by now."  
  
"I know," McCoy said worriedly.  "But this isn't—"  
  
He stopped himself and studied her for several seconds.  Finally, he frowned and shook his head.  "This can't get out.  It would be their careers.  And now it might even be their lives."  
  
"Doctor, what's wrong?" she asked worriedly.  
  
McCoy took a step closer, so there was almost no space between them.  "I can't tell you yet.  But I promise, if I need your help, I'll ask you," he said seriously.  "Please understand.  And please keep people from talking.  It's vital."  
  
"I understand, Doctor," she said, much calmer now than she had been that morning.  Hearing the gossip had obliterated her vanity.  In its place a fierce passion had risen, and she would make it her personal mission to see that the captain's and Mr. Spock's integrity was protected.  
  
"Scotty's just told me about more problems, and we're going to have to bring the senior staff in on this.  I'm heading up to the briefing room now.  Joseph will stay here and monitor them.  Don't bother him," McCoy instructed.  "You handle everything that comes in until I get back."  
  
"Yes, Doctor," Chapel said with a nod.  She recalled how the crewman had described the doctor as 'spooked' that morning.  As he walked away now, he looked downright haunted.  
  


* * *

  
"Gentlemen.  Uhura," Scotty greeted them, slowly walking around the table.  "What we're telling you now is to be kept secret.  No one outside these walls must ever know."  
  
Sulu, Chekov, and Uhura nodded without hesitation, concern in all of their eyes.  
  
Scotty sat down at the head of the table and looked to Dr. McCoy, in his customary spot at the captain's left.  
  
McCoy was staring vacantly at the empty chair opposite him, which was Spock's.  He took a deep breath before looking up at the three young officers.  He only met their eyes for a moment before looking past them and delivering the mechanical speech he had prepared.  
  
"Sometime last night, the captain and Mr. Spock entered into a mind meld.  Through an accident that we don't understand, they became trapped in the meld and have ended up mentally linked.  Except that it's only a partial link and it's not operating properly, according to what we understand about Vulcan telepathy."  
  
The three bridge officers looked at each other in shock and confusion, questions in their eyes.  But wisdom and tact kept them silent as they listened to the doctor's explanation.  
  
"At first it wasn't so bad.  They could communicate telepathically without touch and still had almost full individuality.  It was clear there were problems though.  They reported the telepathic communication incomplete, and it's damaging them both physically.  But the biggest problem..."  
  
McCoy paused and looked at Scotty.  He almost wished he had sent M'Benga instead.  But his friends were in danger.  This was his responsibility.  
  
"...Is that every time one of them talked, the other would be forced to talk too."  
  
He waited to let the meaning of that sink in, and when Sulu's brow shot upward he knew it had.  
  
"So when Captain Kirk was talking to Commodore Stone..."  
  
"Mr. Spock was saying every word down in the sickbay," Scotty finished with a nod.  
  
"The thing is," McCoy continued, wanting to get it over with, "is that if one of them spoke, it would cause pain for the other."  
  
Uhura's brow furrowed.  "So when the captain was talking to Commodore Stone...it was hurting Mr. Spock," she realized.  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"And that...mistake the captain made, when he covered his mouth," Chekov said, "that was really Mr. Spock speaking, wasn't it?"  
  
"You've got it, lad," Scotty said.  "He started watching the bridge monitor from sickbay after that."  
  
Sulu blinked a few times as he recalled the incident.  "And then when the commodore asked about the message to Coridan--"  
  
"That was Spock giving Jim the words to say," McCoy answered.  "He finally just started talking for him.  It was easier."  
  
"I can imagine!" Uhura said, her mouth agape.  
  
"So..." Chekov said, appearing confused, "why did the captain pass out?"  
  
The three looked to McCoy again, all attention.  The doctor clenched his hands atop the table briefly and looked down, gathering his will.  
  
"Up until then, they had kept their verbal communication limited.  They talked to each other telepathically and they wrote things down for us.  The more they talked, the worse the pain became."  
  
He glanced down at the table for a moment, taking another breath before continuing.  
  
"The pain was too much for Spock with his damaged telepathic abilities.  He passed out, about a minute before Jim did.  And...apparently the pain got a lot worse for Jim with Spock out."  
  
"How are they now, Doctor?" Uhura asked, her eyes pools of compassion.  
  
"Still unconscious.  And in great pain."  
  
Chekov leaned forward.  "Can't you help them?"  
  
McCoy slowly shook his head, his eyes on the table.  
  
"We don't know how."  
  
Scotty swallowed and sat up straighter in the captain's chair.  "With the survey team missing we can't leave orbit.  But Commodore Stone is sure to want to talk to both the captain and Mr. Spock when he arrives."  
  
"Why the cover up in the first place?" Sulu asked.  "Why can't we just tell him the truth?"  
  
McCoy's eyes remained on the table as he spoke.  "Because Jim and Spock knew that what they were doing was dangerous, and they did it anyway.  They'd lose their commissions if Command finds out about this."  
  
Sulu looked confused.  "Are you sure?"  
  
"Quite sure," McCoy said curtly.  
  
There was a brief silence as the younger officers all looked at each other, not entirely understanding the problem and confused about the doctor's strange behavior.  
  
"Recommendations," Scotty brought their attention back.  "How do we keep the commodore from discovering this problem?"  
  
"I don't suppose you could just...keep him out of sickbay?" Chekov suggested.  
  
"No," McCoy said, "I blew that when I said the 'illness' wasn't contagious."  
  
Sulu glanced at McCoy's bitter face before looking at Scotty in earnest.  "What if you said that they both beamed down to the planet to search for the missing survey team?"  
  
Chekov shook his head with a frown.  "It's against regulations for both the captain and first officer to be in a landing party."  
  
Uhura smiled.  "Now when have they ever followed that rule?"  
  
"Chekov hasn't been with us very long, remember?" Sulu said, smiling as well.  
  
"That could work," Scotty said, keeping his mind on the problem, "except that the commodore will still want to speak with them."  
  
There was a brief silence, and then Chekov spoke up again.  "Mr. Scott...what about the kelbonite?"  
  
Scotty's brow slowly rose and his face relaxed as he understood.  "Aye, Mr. Chekov...  Now that _could_ work!"  
  
"What's that?" McCoy said, finally looking more like he was with them.  
  
"The kelbonite in the planet's crust inhibits our scanners, and the transporters," Sulu explained.  
  
"That's why it's taking so long to beam the survey teams back," Uhura added.  
  
"And why we can't find the missing one," Sulu continued.  
  
They all looked at McCoy, who leaned back in his chair and slowly nodded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.  
  
"We'd still have to keep the commodore out of sickbay..." he said after several seconds.  
  
"Unless we— That is, what if we..." Chekov began excitedly, searching for the words.  
  
"Slow down, lad," Scotty said.  "What have you got?"  
  
"Mr. Scott, what if the captain and Mr. Spock...actually beam down to the planet?"  
  
McCoy leaned forward in a hurry.  "What?"  The single word came out like a sharp dagger.  
  
"Doctor, I see what he's getting at," Sulu said quickly.  "If they go somewhere rich in kelbonite, the commodore couldn't talk to them or even find them."  
  
"Neither could we," Uhura pointed out.  
  
"Someone would go with them, of course," Sulu added.  
  
"And then," Chekov chimed in again, "you wouldn't have to keep Commodore Stone out of sickbay."  
  
Scotty looked at McCoy, who was leaning heavily on the table and following the conversation with his eyes.  
  
"Have you forgotten," the doctor began slowly, "that they're unconscious in a critical condition?  I don't even dare give them a stimulant, let alone try to haul them around an alien planet!"  
  
"Doctor," Scotty said evenly, and McCoy turned toward him with a frown, "it is the best way to ensure the secrecy of their condition," the engineer said gently.  
  
McCoy pursed his lips against the logic, and then leaned forward a bit more.  
  
"What about the supposedly dying man we've got?  The commodore might want to visit him, since the captain deemed him important enough to disregard orders."  
  
"You could say the man died?" Chekov suggested.  
  
"Or fake an illness with somebody.  I'll volunteer," said Sulu.  
  
McCoy glanced at him with a grimace, and then looked back to Scotty who had adopted a kindly but persuasive expression.  
  
It was several seconds before the doctor leaned back again, throwing up his hands.  
  
"All right!  But it can't be you, Sulu, you were on the bridge.  It'll have to be somebody else."  
  
"I have someone in mind," Scotty said with a sure nod.  
  
McCoy gave him a glance, and then looked back at the others, his eyes darting quickly between them.  
  
"Doctor..." Sulu said slowly, "if you don't mind my saying so, _you_ don't look well at all."  
  
"Aye, now that you mention it..." Scotty said, really looking at McCoy.  
  
There was a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, his eyes were slightly bloodshot, and the way he was moving so nervously reminded Scotty a bit of a trapped animal.  
  
"You ought to go back down to sickbay, have Doctor M'Benga check you over," the engineer said.  
  
"I'm fine!" McCoy protested.  "I'm just worried about Jim and Spock.  This whole thing just keeps getting worse.  And now we're going to be stuck on that planet without any help."  
  
"'We?'  Doctor, you can't beam down with them," Uhura said warily.  Despite expecting protest, she still started slightly when McCoy turned his hard eyes on her.  
  
"What do you mean?  Of course I'm beaming down with them!"  
  
Scotty shook his head sadly.  "You wouldn't leave the ship with a seriously ill man onboard."  
  
"And Doctor M'Benga will be needed to confirm the details of his transmission," Uhura reminded them.  
  
"We'll have to send someone else," Scotty said decisively, and McCoy pinched his eyes shut and bowed his head.  
  
"I volunteer," Chekov said, with Sulu echoing the words almost at the same moment.  
  
Scotty looked between them.  "Aye, Mr. Chekov, you'll go down with them.  And it might be wise to...Doctor McCoy?"  
  
They all stared as the doctor fought a seemingly invisible pain and dizziness, swaying within the chair and almost hitting his head on the table.  
  
Uhura flipped the nearest comm switch.  "Medical team to the briefing room."  
  
"Doctor?" Scotty said, standing behind McCoy now and gently pulling his shoulders to lean him back in the chair.  
  
"I..." McCoy said breathily, "I guess I'm not as fine as I thought."  
  
"I'll assist you down Doctor," Scotty said, helping him to his feet.  The rest of the party rose as well.  "We've got to make our decisions now, or else Commodore Stone will catch us with our pants down.  Chekov," he looked up.  
  
"Aye, Sir," the ensign stepped forward.  
  
"You're with me.  Mr. Sulu, you have the bridge.  And Lieutenant Uhura, see if you can't keep the _Excalibur_ from finding out about anything else we're up to until they get here."  
  
"Aye, Sir," she said, and she and Sulu slowly followed the other three out, McCoy supported on both sides by the other two men.  
  
"I can walk!" McCoy protested, pushing their arms away as they went one direction, and the two lieutenants went the other.  
  
Uhura and Sulu looked at each other nervously as they stepped into the turbolift and headed back up to the bridge.  
  
"I wonder," Sulu said, "just what happened to the captain and Spock."  
  
"We've got other things to worry about, Mister," Uhura said pointedly.  
  
Sulu smiled mirthlessly and nodded.  
  


* * *

  
"Doctor!  What happened?" Chapel asked as McCoy was ushered into sickbay surrounded by the emergency team and the two bridge officers.  
  
"He became dizzy at the table in the briefing room," Scotty said, helping McCoy move to a biobed.  
  
Chapel began scanning him immediately.  "Is that all?"  
  
"He was also extremely irritable and anxious."  
  
"You mean more than usual?" Chapel said, glancing back at the other two.  
  
Chekov and Scotty smirked lightly, but stopped when McCoy suddenly began coughing.  
  
"Well, what is it?" he asked, glancing up behind him at the readings.  
  
"Nothing is showing up on the scanner," Chapel said, confused.  
  
"I'm also short of breath, and aching like I've got a fever," McCoy admitted.  
  
Scotty looked at him worriedly.  
  
"But...you don't have one," Chapel said, staring in perplexity at the scanner.  
  
"Call Joseph in here," McCoy said, and Chapel hurried to comply.  
  
When she was out of the room, McCoy motioned Scotty and Chekov closer.  
  
"Listen, Scotty.  I don't want Jim and Spock on that planet alone."  
  
"Chekov will be with them," Scotty assured him.  
  
"No no, I mean...without medical personnel.  But Joseph and I have got to stay here, you're right about that.  And—" he winced suddenly in pain, and lay down on his side.  "And it doesn't look like I could go anyway.  So...what do you think about sending Chapel down, too?"  
  
"Nurse Chapel...knows about the captain's and Mr. Spock's condition?" Chekov asked quietly.  
  
"No, she doesn't.  And honestly I don't want to tell her.  I trust Christine, but the less people that know about this, the better chance Jim and Spock have of not getting into any trouble."  
  
"Would she need to know all of it to beam down with them?" Scotty asked.  
  
"No.  I—" McCoy winced again, and lay all the way back on the bed.  "I just...wanted to tell you, since I—" he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, taking a moment to catch his breath.  "I don't know what's happening to me.  And I just wanted to make sure..."  
  
"Och, Doctor McCoy.  You're going to be fine!" Scotty reassured him.  
  
McCoy sighed heavily and closed his eyes, nodding.  
  
One of the adjoining doors opened and Chapel returned with Dr. M'Benga.  
  
"I can't leave you alone for ten minutes, can I Leonard," M'Benga joked.  
  
McCoy peered at him and smiled, but seconds later he was coughing again and closed his eyes tightly in pain.  
  
"Something is wreaking havoc in your central nervous system...  But whatever it is, it's doing a good job of hiding.  I'll need to do some bloodwork."  
  
"Yes, Doctor," McCoy said passively.  
  
"Eh, Doctor," Scotty addressed M'Benga, who turned to look at him.  "I need a private word with you."  
  
"Can it wait, Mr. Scott?"  
  
"No, I'm afraid it can't."  
  
"All right," M'Benga said.  "Nurse, take some blood samples and put them through the analyzer unit."  
  
"Yes, Doctor," Chapel said worriedly, and began the procedure.  
  
M'Benga, followed by Scotty and Chekov, disappeared into McCoy's office.  
  
McCoy, eyes still closed, listened to the sound of his heartbeat produced by the monitor above his head.  As before in the privacy ward, the beeps and trills each signified something different that was wrong with him, and he knew without looking what each was.  But he didn't try correlating them yet, since the lives of others were still at stake.  
  
"Christine?" he said, opening his eyes.  
  
"Yes, Doctor?" she said professionally as she drew his blood.  
  
"Scotty is...telling Joseph to prepare the captain and Spock for transport."  
  
"Transport?" she said, drawing closer to look him in the face, "Where?"  
  
"To the planet.  To hide.  There's an angry commodore on his way here who we—" he broke off in a sudden cough, "—who we lied to to protect them.  They'll lose their commissions if...if their condition is discovered."  
  
McCoy watched her eyes darken, and he pushed himself up onto his elbows.  
  
"Now, you shouldn't be getting up," she admonished.  
  
"Please, Christine.  I need you to go with them.  Joseph and I have to stay here, to keep up the pretence.  Chekov is going too.  There's something in the planet that will hide them from scans.  We don't have a choice."  
  
She frowned.  "And how can I help them if I don't know what's wrong with them?"  
  
McCoy shook his head.  "We can't help them either.  They are the first to ever have this condition that we know of.  Only a Vulcan doctor will be able to know if they even _can_ be helped.  So it wouldn't matter if I told you."  
  
"It's a Vulcan condition?  Also affecting the captain?"  
  
McCoy nodded and lay back down, his strength strangely gone.  "I know, it doesn't make sense.  But that's all I'm going to say.  So will you go, or do I need to ask someone else?"  
  
Chapel looked away for a few moments, but then nodded and looked back.  "I'll go."  
  
"Thank you..." McCoy said, closing his eyes.  "Now...go run those blood samples and find out what's wrong with me."  
  
She turned, but then paused and looked back.  "Would you like the morning's reports to read, Doctor?"  
  
"Sure, why not," he said, and she nodded as she left.  
  


* * *

  
"I'm going to implant subcutaneous transponders in each of you," M'Benga said to Chekov and Chapel, standing in the transporter room alongside two antigrav gurneys holding the unconscious captain and commander.  "Hopefully they will help us find you if anything goes wrong."  
  
"Nothing will go wrong," Chekov said with assurance as the hypo was pressed to his forearm.  
  
"We still haven't found that lost survey team," Scotty reminded him from the transporter controls.  "And we've no leads at all on what could have happened.  We're beaming you down to their last known location."  
  
"Yes, Mr. Scott," Chekov acknowledged.  
  
M'Benga injected the transponders into Chapel, Kirk, and Spock in turn, and then into the two security officers who Scotty had assigned.  
  
The party carefully maneuvered the antigrav gurneys onto the transporter platform, and then positioned themselves on the remaining pads.  
  
"Any questions, gentlemen?" Scotty asked.  
  
Chekov glanced at the other three, who stood at the ready and gave him a confident nod.  
  
"No, Sir."  
  
"Energizing," the engineer said, and the four vanished from the platform.  
  
Moments later they materialized in a lush, dense forest.  Coniferous trees grew tall and blocked the sun from shining directly on their location.  Flowers grew in abundance on the forest floor and thick vines climbed up the broad tree trunks, creating an image of a green world in every direction they turned.  Birdsong was the only sound they could hear, until Chekov began scanning with his tricorder.  
  
"No alien or human readings nearby," he said, as Chapel scanned the two patients.  
  
"The captain and Mr. Spock show no ill effects from transport," the nurse reported.  
  
"Then...we should proceed," Chekov said, nodding toward Lt. Leslie and Ensign Bardoli.  
  
The two men joined Chapel and Chekov alongside the gurneys and began guiding them carefully over the terrain.  
  
"The heaviest deposits of kelbonite are this way," Chekov said, looking down at his tricorder.  
  
"Ensign," Leslie said, and Chekov glanced across the two prone officers to look at him.  "Where exactly are we going?"  
  
Chekov swallowed down his nerves and drew himself up a bit taller.  "As far into the mountains as possible.  We don't want to be detected by any ship's scanners."  
  
"And that's really the extent of it?" Bardoli said from behind Leslie.  "We can't know anything else?"  
  
Chekov's mirth faded under the man's ire.  "Those are our orders.  That, and to protect the captain and Mr. Spock."  
  
"Look," Leslie spoke again, "I know why Bardoli and I were chosen for this mission.  We keep our mouths shut, we follow orders, and we're loyal to the captain.  But what if something goes wrong?  How can we protect the captain if we don't know his condition?"  
  
"It's how I feel too, Chekov," Chapel said from behind him.  
  
Chekov glanced back at Bardoli, whose expression was equally hard.  The young ensign drew himself up a bit more, but met all of their eyes evenly in turn.  
  
"I don't know much more than any of you.  But I can tell you that knowing the specific medical condition they are in will not help us.  Lieutenant," he addressed Leslie, "you have been on the bridge all morning.  Does this seem like something that should be gossipped about?"  
  
"I'm not talking about gossip, I'm talking about common sense."  
  
The argument was suddenly made moot with an announcement from Chapel.  "Mr. Spock appears to be coming around!"  
  
Indeed, the Vulcan's eyes began to blink, and for a moment his face twisted in pain before settling back into its usual impassive state.  
  
"Welcome back, Mr. Spock," Chapel said, stepping back a pace as she felt her cheeks flush involuntarily.  
  
Spock made eye contact with her for a moment, and then began looking around.  He looked at the sky, the trees, the security officers, and at Chekov.  Then he began turning his head until he caught sight of Kirk, still unconscious.  
  
He sat up slowly.  
  
"How are you feeling?" Chapel asked slowly, surprised at how her voice suddenly seemed like it might shake.  
  
Spock didn't answer.  Instead he closed his eyes tightly and seemed to be focusing on something.  
  
"Mr. Spock?" Chekov said, and after several seconds Spock slowly opened his eyes again.  
  
To the four watching him he appeared to be in some shock, from his wide-eyed, vacant stare.  
  
"Are you all right, Mr. Spock?" Chekov asked after another moment.  
  
Spock nodded, and then looked at Kirk.  
  
"Doctor McCoy didn't want to risk injecting either of you with any stimulants," Chapel said, hoping that small medical nugget would be helpful.  
  
Spock looked at her again, and then looked around quickly at their surroundings and then back between the nurse and Chekov, a question in his eyes.  
  
Chapel fought against the flush that wanted to return to her cheeks.  "We're on the Ba'ku planet...  Mr. Spock, is something wrong?"  
  
"Oh," Chekov realized suddenly.  "They are not allowed to talk.  It is...very bad when they talk."  
  
"I don't understand," Chapel said, shaking her head.  
  
Spock looked between them in confusion and then set his gaze steadily on Chekov.  
  
"I have been informed of your condition, Sir," he supplied the information.  "But Miss Chapel and the security team have not."  
  
Spock looked back at Chapel and lifted a single eyebrow.  
  
She frowned defiantly.  
  
Spock looked back at Chekov and gestured with one hand to their surroundings, his eyes questioning again.  
  
"Oh, I suppose you are wondering what we are doing here."  
  
Spock nodded steadily.  
  
"Well Sir, we are hiding from Commodore Stone.  He has increased the _Excalibur_ 's speed to arrive before we break orbit, but the kelbonite in the planet will prevent him from finding you and the captain."  
  
Spock looked at Kirk again, and then between the four assigned to him.  There was another question in his eyes, but they didn't know what he wanted.  
  
"Since you are now awake Sir, you can assist us.  We need to move to a kelbonite-rich location," Chekov continued.  
  
Spock's eyes still showed much confusion, but he nodded and began to rise.  
  
Unfortunately he fell back down almost immediately.  
  
Chapel scanned him.  "It looks like normal dizziness," she said.  
  
Spock shook his head as he steadied himself.  
  
"Oh, you...think it's something else?" she asked worriedly.  
  
He nodded, rising again and staying up this time.  He looked authoritatively at the four of them before taking up a position alongside Kirk's gurney.  
  
"Ah...what about this one?" the gold-clad ensign asked, pointing to Spock's vacated gurney.  
  
Spock slightly dipped his chin and narrowed his gaze, and Chekov grinned and nodded.  "Of course, since we no longer need it, we can leave it here until we return."  
  
Spock then held out a hand, and after a moment of confusion Chekov hurriedly pulled his tricorder off and handed it to Spock.  
  
"Ah, the kelbonite is this way," he said, leaning over Spock's shoulder as the Vulcan scanned.  
  
Spock gave him a slight glare, and the ensign stepped dutifully back.  The company began walking again, flanking Kirk on both sides now, deeper into the forest and up the hillside.  
  


* * *

  
As Dr. M'Benga stepped up to McCoy's bedside, the older doctor set a PADD down and gave the man a small smile.  
  
"Well, at least you're not having to deal with anything else while I'm down.  Reports from this morning show no illness or injury whatsoever."  
  
"That's good news," M'Benga said flatly.  
  
"And what's more, every single person who's come in for their physical has shown overall increased health and physical performance."  
  
"Good news," M'Benga said without inflection again, and McCoy finally acknowledged the man's demeanor with a frown.  
  
"All right, what have you got?"  
  
M'Benga hesitated.  "I've run the tests four times.  There's no possibility of error," he said.  
  
McCoy pushed himself up on his elbows.  "Well, spit it out!"  
  
"You have Darnay's Disease.  And it seems to be a mutated form.  It's acting at almost quadruple the rate of normal."  
  
McCoy looked dumbfounded.  "Darnay's Disease?  How could I have gotten that?"  
  
M'Benga simply shook his head, equally at a loss.  
  
"You're absolutely sure?" McCoy looked at him skeptically.  
  
"Absolutely.  I wish I was wrong."  
  
McCoy lifted one eyebrow before laying slowly back down.  "Well, it's one less lie to worry about telling the commodore.  You can tell Scotty he doesn't have to recruit anybody to play sick now."  
  
"Leonard..." the younger doctor said reproachfully, putting his hands on his hips.  
  
"And you'd better get back to work researching what's wrong with Jim and Spock."  
  
"But Leonard, we should—"  
  
"Now Doctor, no arguments," McCoy said gently, lifting a hand.  "You and I both know that Darnay's is terminal."

 

 


	11. The Mistake - part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While in the turbolift, Scotty felt a bit more bold and decided to voice the question he knew everyone wanted answer to.
> 
> "If it's all right to ask Commodore, what are you doing here if you're not leading the survey mission?"
> 
> Stone looked at him in surprise, but after a moment consented. "Standard evaluation of a starship commander by a flag officer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: My computer is fixed, and my hard drive is fully intact!!!
> 
> In celebration, here is one of many things that's been trapped on said hard drive. Expect more soon!

 

The terrain had become steep, and more difficult to traverse.  The lush forest remained however, and the surroundings plus Spock's wakefulness made the landing party's unusual mission less mentally stressful than it had been in its first several minutes.

At least, for awhile.

Attempting to understand the mind of a silent Vulcan was as difficult as ferrying two unconscious men, they soon discovered.  Spock would stop several times, look around, and then continue with no indications of why he had done so.  He would also stop and look at them and give no other gesture to indicate what it was he wanted.

Chapel, to her relief, guessed correctly on the third try that he wanted an update on Kirk's condition when he stared at her.  It had taken Bardoli and Leslie a good seven tries to understand that Spock wanted them to scout ahead.  Only Chekov seemed to have more luck.  Perhaps because he worked on the bridge and attended senior staff meetings with the man.

Now as the security officers returned they were faced again with the stony, demanding eyes.  But following standard procedure gave them easy relief this time.

"To the northwest the forest opens up a bit, but northeast the mountain gets steeper.  Still no signs of the planet's inhabitants."

Spock pulled at his own uniform sleeve and then gestured broadly to the environment, a question in his eyes.

"Uh..." Bardoli said, at a loss.

"Did they see any of the lost survey team?" Chekov ventured a guess.

Spock nodded, and the ensign smiled in relief and a bit of pride.

"No Sir," Leslie answered, "no sign of them.  But we don't know that they went this way."

Spock looked like he wanted to say something, as he had many times, but did not.  He took some tricorder readings and then offered the device to Chekov.

"The richest deposits of kelbonite are to the northeast, and...possibly a cave.  But long-range readings are inconclusive due to kelbonite interference.  You are saying we should go that way?"

Spock gave him a stern look.

"Aye-aye, Sir—Sir, look!  The captain!" Chekov exclaimed.

All eyes turned to Kirk, who was starting to stir.  Chapel immediately began taking tricorder readings while the man on the gurney stretched and blinked in confusion.

Spock quickly stepped into Kirk's direct line of sight, and like a magnet the captain's eyes snapped onto his first officer's, instantly alert and aware.

"Captain, are you all right?" Chekov asked in a hurry.

Kirk sat up and looked around at the environment carefully and then back to Spock.  And then, his eyes narrowed.

Spock's gaze was fixed and determined.

Kirk's eyes slowly widened in shock, followed by what looked to the others like panic.

Spock broke their eye contact and turned away for a brief moment before looking back, his expression wondering.

"Captain Kirk..." Chapel's voice broke the silence.  "I know you aren't supposed to talk.  But are you feeling all right?"

Kirk still seemed distressed by something, but hid it beneath a hard veneer as he looked at Chapel and nodded quickly, his eyes immediately returning to Spock's.

"We...are on the Ba'ku planet, Sir," Chekov began less certainly this time, "hiding from Commodore Stone.  Doctor McCoy told me a little bit about, eh...about your condition."

Kirk looked at the ensign for a moment before stepping off the gurney and facing Spock with the same hard expression.  Spock met the look with the same wondering one.

Kirk took a deep breath and seemed to brace himself for something.  Then he opened his mouth.

"Are..." he said.

Spock's brow rose in time with Kirk's.

"Are you...all right?" Kirk finished slowly.

Chekov looked between them in astonishment.

"I..." Spock answered just as cautiously, "do not believe...that can be determined with accuracy in our present situation."

The two commanding officers stared at each other in silence.  Kirk's eyes seemed to the others to take on a look of sorrow and loss.  Spock was unreadable.

"Sir..." Chekov said again, and Kirk looked at him.  "I know very little, but...are you and Mr. Spock...cured?"

Kirk's face hardened quickly.  "I believe Mr. Spock was correct in his previous statement.  Mr. Chekov...report.  What exactly is going on?"

The ensign snapped to attention. "The _Excalibur_  increased its speed to rendezvous with us here at the planet.  She will arrive...very soon."

"In one hour and sixteen minutes, Ensign," Spock said, briefly consulting his tricorder.

Kirk narrowed his gaze on Spock a moment before turning back to Chekov.  "And we were all beamed to the planet because...?"

"Doctor McCoy insisted that Commodore Stone could not see either of you.  The kelbonite deposits in the planet's crust will hide us from any scans and block communications."

"I see..." Kirk said.  "And...status of the missing survey team?"

Leslie and Bardoli looked at each other briefly, brows raised.  Kirk easily avoided smiling.

"We transported to their last known coordinates, Sir.  There has been no sign of them."

Kirk straightened his shirt and glanced around again.  "Well, as long as we're here, we may as well look for them.  And Mr. Spock..."

Spock looked up from the tricorder at Kirk, raising one brow in question.

Kirk inhaled deeply, indecision on his face.  "Mr. Spock, try to find a break in the kelbonite so we can contact the ship."

Spock's only response was to nod, and look back to the instrument in his hands.

Nurse Chapel had been standing back since the captain rose, but now stepped forward again and continued her scans.

Kirk started slightly, and then looked between all members of the group again.  "Exactly what have you all been told about...mine and Commander Spock's...illness?"

Bardoli crossed his arms and Leslie shook his head.  "Nothing, Sir."

"You were only assigned as security?"

Leslie nodded, and Kirk turned his gaze to Chekov.

"The doctor told us—that is, myself and Mr. Sulu and Miss Uhura—what he thought we needed to know, in order to...preserve the situation when the commodore arrives," the ensign finished lamely.

"I see," Kirk said with a grimace, and turned to Chapel.

"Doctor McCoy has not told me anything.  I am here because he refused to let the two of you be beamed down without any medical personnel."

Kirk's brow rose at her obvious ire, but he didn't comment.  "Why didn't Doctor McCoy beam down himself?"

At that, Chapel's face softened.  "Doctor McCoy has taken ill."

Spock looked up sharply and Kirk started again.  "What?  What's wrong with him?"

"We're not sure.  Doctor M'Benga is running tests."

Kirk glanced uneasily at Spock, seemingly at a loss for words at the unexpected turn of events.

"Nurse," Spock spoke quietly, taking one step nearer, "set your tricorder to scan for psilosynine," he said quietly.

Chapel made the adjustment and turned the instrument on them each in turn.  "The captain's level of psilosynine is six times the human norm...  Yours is almost nonexistant," she said, looking up in confusion.

"Thank you, Nurse," Spock nodded, and turned away to look back at his own tricorder.

Kirk looked between his first officer and the nurse again, before settling his gaze on Chekov.  "And there's no sign of the missing survey party?"

"No sign, Sir," Chekov acknowledged.

"Very well..." Kirk said, looking around him again.  "We'll look for the missing survey party, but, first... Mr. Spock, I need to have a word with you in private."

Spock straightened to attention and let the tricorder rest at his side as he gave a brief nod.

"Captain, I—" Chapel began, but Kirk cut her off.

"I'm sorry Nurse, it's necessary."  He looked back at Spock, who was staring at nothing over his head.  "Come on," he said, laying a hand on the science officer's arm and turning him toward the forest.

Chapel frowned as she watched the two disappear into the thick growth surrounding them.

"Ensign," Bardoli said, and all eyes turned to him, "since the captain and Mr. Spock seem to be all right, can't we go back to the ship?"

Chekov puzzled over the situation.  "The captain said we would look for the missing survey team.  I don't see why we shouldn't."

"Because the whole situation doesn't make sense," Chapel said in frustration.  "Why hide from the commodore?  Why keep medical personnel in the dark but tell bridge crew?  No offense, Chekov," she added.

Chekov crossed his arms and frowned.

Leslie stepped up next to him encouragingly.  "Sometimes the best way to maintain security is to keep information secret.  We can't betray what we don't know."

"We also can't be implicated in anything," Chekov added on.

Everyone looked at him in surprise, and he looked down quickly, his eyes darting back and forth across the ground.

"Do we need to be worried about that?" Bardoli asked.

Chekov straightened with authority.  "Did I say that we did?"

"But in a medical emergency," Chapel interrupted.  "Whatever's wrong with them has to be serious!  It's irresponsible for us to be here away from medical assistance."

Bardoli looked at her.  "Are you sure that's the only reason you're concerned."

Chapel's cheeks colored and Leslie looked at his subordinate with annoyance.

"Based on what little I know," Chekov said, and Chapel looked at him, "they are definitely showing improvement."

"But I should know.  Why wouldn't Doctor McCoy tell me?" she protested.

"Maybe Bardoli has a point," Leslie said.

Chapel's eyes burned and Chekov looked between them in bewilderment.

"I don't understand," the gold-clad ensign said.

Bardoli looked at him with raised brow.  "I guess you're still too new to have heard.  But everybody else knows somehow.  Nurse Chapel has had a thing for Commander Spock ever since she transferred to the _Enterprise_."

"That's not true!" Chapel protested.

"It's close enough," Leslie said, and the hard set to Chapel's jaw softened a bit.  "Maybe the doctor was concerned that your personal feelings would interfere with your professional duties."

Chapel looked down, and the others could see a weakening in her resolve.

Chekov barely knew the nurse, and didn't feel remotely qualified to offer either advice or comfort.  Leslie and Bardoli he knew had been on the ship much longer and knew Chapel much better.  But, until the captain and Spock returned he _had_  been placed in command of this team.  And to do their job, morale needed to be strong.

"The four of us were chosen to accompany Captain Kirk because he trusts each of us.  Even me," Chekov said, drawing their focus back to him.  "It was not expected that the captain and Mr. Spock would regain consciousness.  And...it was not expected that they would be in good condition if they did.  We should honor the captain's and Mr. Scott's trust by doing our duty to the very best of our abilities, no matter what we feel about the situation.  Just like we do on the _Enterprise_."

Bardoli's expression changed from irritation to determination, and he nodded his agreement.  Chapel's face calmed and Leslie looked almost like he might smile.

"So...we should probably have two search patterns ready to propose when the captain returns.  Since there are six of us, he will probably suggest we separate."

"We could—"

Leslie was cut off by a sudden flash of an energy weapon striking a tree behind him.

They all glimpsed the scorch mark before turning to find its source.  And in the forest they all saw clearly a face, and a hand training a weapon on them.

"Cover!" both Leslie and Chekov ordered and before they could move they were under fire again from two sides this time.

Leslie and Bardoli were down before they could return fire, and as Chekov drew his phaser an energy blast hit him directly in the chest.

"Chekov!" he heard Chapel's voice call as from a distance as the world around him faded to black.

* * *

McCoy slowly opened his eyes and found the worried ones of Joseph M'Benga standing over him.

"I take it there's no good news?"

"Actually, there's all sorts of good news.  Even miraculous news."

"Oh?" McCoy said, attempting to push himself up and receiving a coughing fit for his effort.  When it had passed, he said, "Not involving my condition, I take it."

"No.  But remember last week when Crewman Mayer broke his arm in that fall in engineering?"

"Mayer...  Clean break.  Should be back to normal in a few weeks with treatment.  What about him?"

"I just examined him.  The bone is completely healed."

McCoy did push himself up this time.  "That's impossible."

"Here are the scans I took," M'Benga said, presenting a PADD.

McCoy read through the data, confusion in his eyes.  "How can this be?"

"I have a hunch," M'Benga said, and McCoy looked up.  "Remember earlier, when you told me that the morning's reports showed no illness or injury, and physicals showed improved health in everyone who had come in?"

"Yes.  What about it?"

M'Benga walked around the foot of the bed, his chin raised as he thought.  "There's more.  I've run tests on all of the medical staff too, and we all show improved health overall.  And you remember Nurse Thomas's condition awhile back."

"Yes.  She became infertile after contracting that Nausicaan vascular disorder."

"Well, she's not infertile anymore."

McCoy coughed several times as he pushed himself up all the way.  "That disorder is incurable, just like mine."

"Apparently, something has cured it.  I think that there's something in this region of space affecting the crew.  It's having regenerative effects on everyone in every way."

"Except me," McCoy said, coughing again.

M'Benga frowned sadly.  "No...  Except it could explain the accelarated rate at which the disease is progressing."

"I can't say I'm thrilled about it."

"Neither am I.  But, it might mean that it's not untreatable this time."

McCoy glanced away at the wall with a sigh.  "I hope not..."

M'Benga walked around to the other side of the bed to meet his eyes.  "It's not like you to care about your own health Leonard.  Although I'm pleased that you do."

The older doctor sighed and looked down.  "I just...want to know that Jim and Spock will be all right, before I...before I go."

"I'm not giving up on you yet," M'Benga said, laying a heavy hand on his shoulder.

McCoy looked up with a small smile.  "I'm not giving up yet either.  You'd better tell Scotty what you suspect about this space so he can start investigating it."

"Yes, Doctor."

* * *

Scotty paced in front of the transporter console, anxious despite the apparent flawlessness of their plan.  Commodore Stone was a wild card, and he had no idea of knowing how the man would respond to the situation they had contrived.  And with McCoy now dangerously ill, according to Dr. M'Benga, he was for the most part facing the situation alone.

"Sir," Kyle broke into his thoughts from the other side of the console, "the _Excalibur_  signals they're ready."

Scotty halted his pacing and faced the platform.  "Energize."

Moments later a matter stream coalesced into the imposing figure of Commodore Stone, who looked down on Scotty imperiously.

"Lieutenant Commander Scott," the commodore began, "why have the captain and first officer both neglected meeting me according to regulations?"

"They hope you'll accept their apologies, Commodore," Scotty said stepping forward, "but we've a survey team of eight people missing on the planet's surface.  Both the captain and Mr. Spock are leading search parties to find them."

"Contact them, please," the commodore said, stepping down from the platform.

"Aye, Sir," Scotty said, hurrying over to the console.  "Scott to bridge."

"Bridge.  Uhura here."

"Contact the captain on the planet and inform him that Commodore Stone has arrived."

"Aye-aye, Sir."

Scotty closed the channel.  "Would you like to wait for the captain in the briefing room, Sir?"

"Actually, I'd like to pay a visit to your sickbay."

"Sickbay?" Scotty said with an appropriate level of surprise.  "Are you feeling all right, Commodore?"

"Quite.  But I would like to meet the man so dangerously ill that your captain chose to ignore regulations in favor of visiting him."

Scotty hung his head. "Aye..."

He led the way out of the transporter room and began the march to sickbay, keeping his head low as he walked.  He hoped it was enough to pique the commodore's interest.

"Am I going to meet resistance from your Chief Medical Officer in seeing this man for myself?" Stone asked after several moments had passed.

Scotty looked up to find the man eyeing him curiously.  Inwardly he was pleased with his performance, while outwardly he swallowed nervously.  "No, I...don't expect you will.  You see...and you'll please forgive us Sir, but you see...when you called, we didn't want everyone to know."

"Know what?"

"Well...the man who is ill, Sir... It's Doctor McCoy himself."

* * *

Kirk walked quickly through the forest, his instinct keeping his eyes on his surroundings as he moved.  There was scarecely any wildlife let alone people.  And no sign of the survey party whatsoever.  But, Kirk ashamedly admitted to himself, that wasn't the first thing on his mind.

When he felt he was far enough, he stopped and turned abruptly to face the man following closely behind him.

"I know you.  What's wrong?"

Spock had seemed startled by Kirk's sudden turn and now didn't meet his eyes.  Instead he walked slowly around him, looking at the ground.

"We're not...speaking together anymore. It's not hurting me to talk. Are _you_  in any pain?"

Spock shook his head.  "No, Sir," he answered softly.

Kirk's brow rose.  "'No, Sir'?  That's what you have to say about all this?"

Spock continued his slow circling, apparently an attempt to avoid eye contact.  Kirk wouldn't allow it.

He grabbed Spock by the upper arms and turned him to face him directly.

"I can't hear your thoughts anymore either.  Does that mean, that...whatever the problem was, it just went away?"

Spock held his face absolutely still as he was forced to look at him.  Kirk looked back in bewilderment at his friend's strange attitude.

Finally, Spock's eyes flickered down to Kirk's and his hands came up between Kirk's arms toward the man's face.

"Permit me?"

Kirk nodded, surprised permission was even asked.  He closed his eyes and waited for the telepathic communication to come after Spock's fingers found his face.

But several seconds later he was released, the warm presence never having entered his mind.  He opened his eyes in confusion and found Spock's to be full of fear.

"Spock?" he tried more gently this time.  "What's wrong?"

Spock shook his head and tried to break away, but Kirk kept a firm grip on his shoulders.

"My telepathic abilities...are gone."

Kirk's breath caught in his chest.  Slowly Spock turned his head to meet Kirk's gaze.

This time, Kirk wanted to look away and avoid the difficult contact.  But he mastered his unease and kept his gaze fixed on his friend.  He would be there for him.

"You're certain?" he said quietly, not breaking eye contact.

"If I could initiate contact with anyone, Jim, it would be you."

A sorrow and regret tightened around Kirk's heart and he did look away for a moment.

"It's my fault... Spock, I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry.  I never should have—"

"We have been through this," Spock said, breaking out of Kirk's hold and putting space between them.  "I knew the risks and ignored them.  Nor did I properly prepare you so the danger could be avoided."

Kirk moved toward Spock and tried to put a hand on his shoulder again. "Spock... T'hy'la."

Without warning, Spock pushed his hand away and turned on him in anger.  "Cease using that word, you do not understand its meaning!"

Kirk was stunned.  "Spock..."

The Vulcan turned away and breathed deeply several times to calm himself.  "Forgive me. The ordeal has left my ability to control my emotions somewhat...weakened."

Kirk walked around to meet his eyes again, but held off from touching him this time.  "Forgiveness isn't necessary.  But Spock, I...you need to know.  You're not alone in this.  I won't leave you alone in this."

Spock glanced at him from beneath heavily-lidded eyes and let out a small, short breath.  "You have no idea what it is like to be...alone, in this way."

The Vulcan walked several paces away and turned his head up toward the sky.  "To always hear and feel the life of those around you.  To become...familiar with them.  So that you know when any change occurs."

Kirk listened, trying to understand Spock's distress.  "That sounds more like empathy than telepathy."

Spock glanced at him.  "Perhaps.  But it is gone now.  Silence.  Emptiness.  A void where once life pulsated without end."

Kirk cautioned a single step closer.  "Like...those waters...?"

"Similar," Spock said without looking at him.  "But even they are an image created out of shared knowledge to provide a workable context.  What a Vulcan experiences through telepathy as a part of normal living cannot be put into a context that you understand.  Now..."

Kirk took two more steps closer.

"Now it is like a dark, sealed room.  No exit.  And no light.  Nor will there ever be," Spock said, shaking his head slowly, his eyes widening with the shock of the realization.

"Spock..."

A distant cry suddenly drew their attention, and Spock began scanning with the tricorder back the way he had come.

"That sounded like Chapel," Kirk said.

"Readings are inconclusive due to the kelbonite, but they suggest more humanoid life forms are present."

Kirk reached for his phaser and was dismayed to find none.

"I recommend caution," Spock said with a raise of his brow.

"Let's go," Kirk said, and they carefully began making their way back to the where they had left their escort.

* * *

"I don't suppose you can tell me the doctor's condition?" Commodore Stone asked Dr. M'Benga.

The two of them with Lt. Cmdr. Scott stood at the foot of McCoy's biobed, newly relocated to the privacy ward where Kirk and Spock had been only hours before.

"It is a breach of doctor-patient confidentiality.  Will you swear to keep it to yourself if I do?" M'Benga said with a frown.

"You have my word," Stone said with a nod.

M'Benga looked at Scotty first, and the engineer nodded his permission.

"Doctor McCoy has Darnay's Disease.  It's a systemic condition that cannot be cured.  And what's more, it seems to have mutated and is acting four-times faster than normal."

"You say it cannot be cured?" Stone asked.

"Correct.  The disease is fatal."

Stone's brow furrowed for a moment in sympathy before he turned to Scotty.  "Then why was he on the bridge earlier, if the condition is so serious?"

M'Benga answered quickly. "We weren't positive about the diagnosis yet.  And, it hadn't entered the final debilitating stage yet, as it has now."

"You don't expect him to live long?" Stone asked.

M'Benga hesitated, steeling himself. "He'll be dead before the end of the day."

Scotty looked at McCoy's face, lined with pain even as he slept.  It was hard to believe that only hours ago he had seemed healthy and fine.

"You have my sympathy," Stone said, looking between the two men, and Scotty believed he meant it.  "But you'll forgive me if I ask a few more questions.  Things simply aren't adding up."

"Of course, Sir," Scotty said.

"Captain Kirk said he ignored orders because he was concerned for the ill crew member—the doctor."

"The doctor is one of Captain Kirk's closest friends," Scotty answered honestly.

"That's correct," M'Benga added.

"But now he has beamed to the planet's surface while his friend is so ill," Stone countered.

"There are eight people missing on the planet below.  Captain Kirk may have made an error before to your judgment, but he would never ignore the safety of his crew," Scotty said passionately.

Stone nodded and looked back at McCoy lying in the bed.  "And...when Mr. Spock was in sickbay before, when the doctor was on the bridge?"

"He was helping me research the condition," M'Benga said.  "Mr. Spock is also a close friend of Doctor McCoy's."

"Is that so?" Stone asked with a bit of surprise.

"Aye, that they are," Scotty agreed.

"Hm," Stone said.

Watching him, his expression looked far less severe than it had when they communicated across the view screen.  But he still didn't look satisfied.  Scotty took a breath and steeled himself.

"Commodore, if I may speak freely?"

Stone looked at him.  "You may."

"Captain Kirk isn't exactly known for always following the rules.  Why are you making such a big deal about a delay in acknowledging a new order?  It's not like the reply could get to Starfleet anyway, with all the interference from this part of space."

Stone faced him fully.  "It's the urgency of your new orders that makes it so important.  Have you seen them?"

Scotty looked at M'Benga in question.  The doctor looked just as perplexed.

"If you mean the private communications sent to the captain, no, of course not."

"Then you do not know that we must beat the Klingons in the acquisition of Sherman's Planet."

"What is Sherman's Planet?" M'Benga asked.

Stone looked at Scotty, his brow raised.

"It's a planet on the border of Federation Space and the Klingon Empire.  It's actually not far from here," Scotty explained.

Stone appeared to be impressed. "And under the Organian Peace Treaty, either of our governments is eligible to develop it. Its strategic location makes it vital of course that the Federation gain control. And the Klingons have already dispatched multiple ships to begin colonization. We have a plan though, that we are certain the Organians will see is the better option."

"But if we're not there..." Scotty said.

Stone nodded.  "Exactly."

"I see...  Well, if you'd like to proceed to the bridge, Commodore, I'm sure they have the captain on standby to speak with you."

"Yes.  I am interested in how the search and rescue effort is proceeding."

Scotty stepped ahead of the commodore so he couldn't see his face as he fished anxiously for a way to get a message to the bridge.  Except for the captain's party, who were most definitely not searching, there was no other planetside effort.  And that was another point that could raise suspicion.

Thankfully, an opportunity presented itself without any extra effort required from him.  A wall comm whistled on shipwide and Uhura called his name.

"Bridge to Mr. Scott, come in please!"

He hurried to answer.  "Scott here?"

"Mr. Scott, we've been trying to reach you."

"I was in the privacy ward in sickbay.  Communications have been blocked there by Doctor M'Benga's orders," he explained.

"Sir, I have been unable to raise Captain Kirk on the planet," Uhura continued.

Stone stepped up to the comm. "This is Commodore Stone.  Why are you unable to raise him?"

"It's the interference, Sir.  We can't even find the captain's party on sensors, they moved too far into an area with kelbonite deposits."

"What about the first officer's party?"

"The same, Sir," Uhura answered.

"Lieutenant," Scotty cut in again, "give me Mr. Sulu."

"Sulu here, Mr. Scott," the deep voice replied almost instantly.

"How is the shuttle search progressing?" Scotty asked, hoping the conn officer would follow him.

"Sir?"

"Has their search pattern picked up the missing survey team yet?"

There was a slight pause, and then, "No Sir, it hasn't.  Should I expand the search radius?"

"Continue the standard grid for now.  We don't want the native populations to see us."

"Aye Sir, bridge out."

Scotty put his hands on his hips and frowned, hoping the performance was convincing.  He tried to make his reactions as he had in sickbay, since those were all entirely genuine.

"Your captain places a lot of trust in you," Stone said, drawing Scotty's eyes up to meet his.

"Aye Sir. He does."

"Let me see how you have conducted the search so far."

"Aye-aye, Commodore," Scotty said, and continued on his way to the bridge.

* * *

Kirk and Spock crept carefully through the thick forest growth, listening intently to the voices ahead.  When they were close enough they saw six men training weapons on the rest of their group, phasers and communicators having been confiscated along with Chapel's medical supplies.

"You will come with us," the leader of the aliens seemed to say.

"We will go nowhere with you," Chekov said defiantly.

In response, the leader gave him an uppercut with the butt of his weapon.

"Whether you come on that bed you brought with you," the alien gestured to the antigrav gurney, "or on your own two feet, you are coming.  It's your decision.  But first..." the alien stepped closer to Chekov, "where is the other?"

"What other?" Chekov asked.

His reply got him another hit, this one bringing him to his knees.  Spock gripped Kirk's arm with one hand to stop him from bolting out in defense of the young officer.

"We are not fools.  Where is the one who was brought on this bed?"

"You...are mistaken," Chekov said, catching his breath as he rose to his feet, "it was her."

"Yes, I'm ill.  But I'm feeling better now," Chapel added to Chekov's ruse.

"That's no surprise," the alien said with a scoff.  "Bring them," he ordered, and his men flanked the four Starfleet officers and led them into the forest, away from where Kirk and Spock were hiding.

Kirk started forward but was halted by Spock again, and they waited several minutes until the only sound again was birdsong.

"Those looked like directed energy weapons," Kirk said.

"On a planet with no technology.  It appears we were mistaken," Spock said.

"Surveys showed this people to be peaceful."

"Apparently, not all of them are," Spock replied.

"If only we had a communicator..." Kirk said, rubbing his hands.

"It is logical to assume that these people have their settlement in areas where scans are blocked by kelbonite.  A communicator would only help us if we were to leave the area.  And I expect you want us to follow the aliens."

"You assume correctly, Spock.  Let's go."

* * *

When Scotty stepped onto the bridge with Commodore Stone, Sulu remained seated in the command chair.

"Status of the search, Mr. Sulu?" Scotty asked almost instantly.

"No sign of the survey party at all, Mr. Scott," the lieutenant answered.  His confidence in the chair was a good sign to the engineer that his message had been received.  It was also good for the commodore to see that operations on the ship were proceeding normally.

"Communications?" Scotty turned to Uhura.

"No contact with the missing survey team or the search party since they entered the areas hidden by kelbonite," she replied.

"What about the inhabitants of the planet?" the commodore asked.  "Is there a chance that they've been captured or killed?"

"Extremely unlikely, Sir," Sulu said, turning the chair slightly, "all surveys report the culture here to be extremely peaceful.  And the survey team wasn't anywhere near them anyway."

"Have all reports regarding the planet transferred to the _Excalibur_  at once," Stone continued.

"Aye-aye, Sir," Scotty said, and nodded to Uhura.

Stone stepped up to the library computer station, manned by Lt. Gorou.  Scotty followed him.

"Have you tried narrowing your scanning beams?" Stone asked.

"Yes Sir.  It hasn't had any effect," the young science officer replied.

"Commodore," Scotty interrupted, "will you be taking charge of the planetary survey, then?"

"No, I'll leave that to Captain Harris and his crew.  In fact, if your missing survey party isn't found soon, I'll have his crew continue the search so you can proceed to Deep Space K-7."

Scotty swallowed but held himself well.  "Aye Sir.  The captain won't like it, but—"

"At this point you are already several hours behind schedule on a mission that Starfleet considers to be of the highest importance.  What Captain Kirk likes no longer matters."

"Mr. Scott," Uhura interrupted.  "A call for you from sickbay.  Doctor M'Benga requests a private word with you."

"Route it to the briefing room Lieutenant," the engineer replied and hurried off the bridge, followed closely by Stone.

While in the turbolift, Scotty felt a bit more bold and decided to voice the question he knew everyone wanted answer to.

"If it's all right to ask Commodore, what are you doing on the _Excalibur_  if you're not leading the survey mission?"

Stone looked at him in surprise, but after a moment consented.  "Standard evaluation of a starship commander by a flag officer.  Captain Kirk won't be due for one for almost two years.  Although I may recommend that Command reconsider that."

"You're evaluating Captain Harris, then?"

"Yes.  Actually, it might be interesting to see how he responds to Captain Kirk's unusual behavior in this situation.  Perhaps I'll go back to the _Excalibur_  and let him handle the rest of this."

Scotty was careful not to look eager.  "I've never met Captain Harris, Sir, but I know you don't give command of a _Constitution_ -class starship to just any man."

"That we do not.  Which is why it is critical that they are able to follow regulations at all times," Stone said as the lift stopped and they disembarked.

A few moments later they stepped into the briefing room together, and Scotty sat at the table and opened the comm channel to sickbay.  Dr. M'Benga's face appeared on the screen.

"Yes Doctor, what is it?"

The medical man looked hesitant to speak.  "I'm afraid I have bad news, Mr. Scott."

Scotty leaned forward.  "Yes?"

"Doctor McCoy is dying."

 


	12. The Mistake - part 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter's short, but more are coming soon! Thanks to all the readers who've stuck with me through the dry spell.

  
Following tricorder readings only, Kirk and Spock followed the group that had captured their officers.  They went for several miles and ended up high in the mountains, in the richest areas of kelbonite deposits.  
  
"The tricorder is no longer functioning at the distance we are from the landing party," Spock reported.  
  
"Then we'll have to get closer.  Can we, without attracting their attention?"  
  
"The foliage is still heavy enough to provide cover if we are cautious."  
  
Kirk continued the trek upwards, Spock at his heels.  They had made the journey in silence so far to maintain stealth, but Kirk was eager to talk to his friend.  He was desperate to help him cope with the loss of his telepathy, especially since it was his fault.  But as he didn't yet know how, he remained silent.  He would need to wait for Spock to initiate the conversation, and give him a context for helping him.   
  
They were about twenty minutes into the hike when suddenly Spock lifted a hand to stop him, raising his head and listening intently.  
  
"You hear something?" Kirk said softly.  
  
Spock nodded and resumed taking readings with the tricorder.  "There is a cave...approximately one-fifth of a mile ahead of us to the northeast.  And there are several humanoid life forms within."  
  
"Our people?  The survey party?"  
  
Spock shook his head.  "Readings are not that specific due to the interference.  However I am also detecting evidence of...sophisticated technologies."  
  
Kirk leaned over to look at the tricorder.  
  
"Directed energy weapons...communications devices...perhaps even a food synthesizer," Spock continued.  
  
"Could it be another race of people living on the planet?"  
  
"Speculation will provide no answers as to their identity at this time.  However, it is logical to assume that this group is aware of the effect kelbonite has on modern technology and has chosen the cave to reside in for that reason."  
  
"We've got to get closer.  Figure out what we're up against, so we can go back for help."  
  
"Agreed," Spock said with a nod, and more slowly the pair continued through the heavy forest growth.  
  


* * *

  
"Mr. Chekov!" the cry drew the young ensign's attention, and he looked up to see Lt. D'Amato and the rest of the missing survey team starting toward him.  
  
But they were stopped effectively by three of the aliens brandishing their weapons.  
  
"What are you doing here?" D'Amato spoke again.  
  
"Be silent!" the alien leader ordered, and the geologist frowned as he held his mouth closed.  
  
Chekov took a quick count of the survey party—all eight were present—before looking around at their new surroundings.  They were in a massive cave, with multiple branching passageways that he couldn't see the ends to.  An initial count of the aliens was pointless, since they kept moving, but there were at least thirty.  And from the nature of the way items were arranged within the cave—tables, chairs, some sort of scanning console—it appeared that these people had been here a long time.  
  
His heart was pounding, but he knew he had to speak for his ship.  He faced the apparent leader and puffed out his chest.  
  
"I am Ensign Pavel Chekov of the USS _Enterprise_ and I demand you release us immediately!"  
  
The alien stopped in his conversation, smiled in amusement, and approached until he was nearly nose to nose with Chekov.  It was then that the ensign realized how young this man looked—possibly no older than him.  
  
"I am Ro'tin.  And I will do no such thing."  
  
"Why have you brought us here?" Chekov asked, holding his position.  
  
"As hostages, clearly.  We have no desire to harm you, but if you resist us you will leave us no choice," the man called Ro'tin answered, turning back to his colleague.  
  
"Why do you need hostages?" Chekov asked.  
  
"To ensure the cooperation of your ship.  To get my people off of this world!" the man said, his eyes now on a scanning console near the wall of the cave.  
  
Chekov glanced around him.  The other three had been led to the survey party, and no guard was left specifically with him.  He was only three meters from the cave's entrance.  The other aliens were busy with all of the equipment in the cave.  
  
This might be his only chance.  
  
Taking a breath, he bolted for the entrance as fast as he could.  
  
"Guard!" he heard the furious cry behind him as he broke out into the forest.  
  
The forest all looked the same, but he knew that his goal should be to get back down the mountain.  He hadn't gone far though when an energy blast struck a tree near him, and he hesitated.  And that's when he saw them.  
  
Two brief glimpses of gold and blue, and he knew he wasn't alone.  But if he approached his commanding officers, they would be captured as well.  
  
He stopped entirely, his eyes on the place where he had seen the tell-tale uniforms.  They were now completely concealed of course.  In moments, two of the alien guards caught up to him and grabbed him roughly by the arms.  What could he do to help them all before he was taken back to the cave?  
  
"You were wise to stop," one of the guards said as they turned him back toward the cave.  "It would have been worse for you if you hadn't."  
  
Chekov took a breath and called out far more loudly than was needed.  "We will never help you escape this planet!  I demand communication with my ship!  I demand communication with my ship!"  
  
He struggled violently against the grip of the guards to make the performance more convincing and received a blow to the head with the butt of the weapon as a result.  For the second time that day, his world faded to black.  
  


* * *

  
"Take him," one alien said, and the other slung the unconscious Chekov over his shoulders.  The two went back the way they had come, disappearing into the heavy foliage.  
  
From their place of cover, Kirk held his breath until he was certain the aliens were long out of ear-shot.  When he finally exhaled, he turned and leaned heavily against a tree.  
  
"Now what..." he said hopelessly, folding his hands limply over his knees.  There was nothing he and Spock could do alone against what were clearly superior forces.  And they had no communicator with which to contact the ship.  
  
He hung his head as the thought occurred to him that if Spock still had his telepathy, there might be something they could do.  But he would never voice the thought.  And he wondered then if his past use of Spock's abilities had been an abuse.  Was part of his trust in his first officer the fact that he was a telepath?  
  
"Captain.  There was no reason for Mr. Chekov to call out the way he did," Spock said.  
  
Kirk kept his head low.  "He was desperate.  Trying to escape.  That's all."  
  
"No Sir, I believe it was deliberate."  
  
The man in gold did look up then, his eyes questioning.  
  
"I believe either Mr. Chekov saw us, or hoped we were in the vicinity, and was sending us a message."  
  
Kirk's attention immediately focused and he recalled the words the ensign had shouted.  "He said... 'We will never help you escape this planet.  I demand communication with my ship.'"  
  
"And, he repeated the last statement.  I believe Captain, that he or another of the group will make another escape attempt, and try to get us a communicator."  
  
Kirk's brow slowly rose.  "Yes...that makes sense.  And...their motive?"  
  
"That remains unclear.  But apparently it involves their disembarkation of this planet."  
  
"Spock," Kirk threw a hand onto his first officer's arm, "I've just thought of something.  How did they know where to find Chekov and the others?"  
  
"It is possible that their technology has been adapted to scan beyond the kelbonite."  
  
"If that's true, then we can't stay here."  
  
"But we also have no way of knowing the range of their scanning devices.  If Mr. Chekov or another of the landing party is to provide us a communicator, we must remain nearby."  
  
Kirk stood again and faced the Vulcan.  "Spock, were there...any indications of other ships in the area, or any crashed on the surface in the initial surveys?"  
  
"Negative.  The presence of these people is a mystery."  
  
Kirk stepped a few paces away as he thought.  "I guess...I'm wondering if any diplomatic solution can be found."  
  
"That would be ideal," Spock agreed.  
  
Kirk put his hands on his hips and shook his head.  "All right...  Let's assume Chekov was trying to send us a message, and...that if the aliens could detect us, they would have already.  I'd like to get closer, so we can see more of what's going on."  
  
Spock nodded his agreement, and gestured ahead.  
  
Slowly and silently, they continued their ascent toward the mountains.  
  


* * *

  
The room was dark, bathed in an uncharacteristic red glow.  The only other light in the room came from the terminal above the bed.  A single red dot pulsed slowly with the heartbeat, and the other indicators were held perfectly still as life functions were maintained now by machine.  
  
Scotty held his face absolutely still as he looked at the un-moving face of Dr. McCoy.  He wouldn't let that interfering commodore see him flinch one more time.  
  
"Is there any chance, Doctor?" he asked M'Benga, standing on the other side of the bed.  
  
"Technically speaking, he's already dead.  His own body has failed and is only kept alive by the life support systems."  
  
"What about...brain activity?"  
  
"There's a little, you can see, but it's falling fast.  Mr. Scott, the disease is terminal.  Life support will keep the body going, but he will suffer brain death soon."  
  
"Is he in pain?"  
  
"He can't feel anything anymore."  
  
A voice from near the door drew their attention.  "It would be more merciful to pull the plug, it seems."  
  
Scotty looked away sharply from the suggestion of Commodore Stone.  He tried not to condemn the man, knowing he was only trying to be helpful.  And the words had been delivered kindly.  But still...  
  
"You don't just decide to end a man's life," he said, looking down at the still face.  
  
"The circumstances of his illness also weigh on the side of prolonging his life," M'Benga added.  
  
"What do you mean?" Stone asked.  
  
M'Benga approached the man, and Scotty turned his back more toward the door and let the worry and pain into his features finally.  
  
"We're not sure, but we think it's something about this space.  With the exception of Doctor McCoy, every other person we have examined is increasing in overall general health.  Injuries and diseases are healing at remarkable rates, and even conditions people were born with are reversing.  There's some sort of...miraculous healing going on all over the ship, except in Doctor McCoy."  
  
"Do you have any explanation for these...miracles?" Stone asked.  
  
"Not at this time.  But I've set all the science labs to work on it.  However..." the young doctor turned to look back at McCoy, where Scotty was now leaning over him slightly.  "McCoy is the anomaly.  I don't want to let him die without trying to figure out exactly why he is dying."  
  
"Understood," Stone said with a solemn nod.  
  
Scotty straightened up and a moment later turned to meet the commodore.  
  
"Sir," he began, "I'd like to request that the _Excalibur_ assist in our search efforts now."  
  
"And you'll proceed on your next mission?" Stone said, his surprise clear.  
  
Scotty shook his head.  "I have to leave that decision to Captain Kirk.  But he's not due to check in for a few hours yet.  After he does...well, I reckon he'll want to discuss that with you.  But the sooner we recover the missing personnel, the sooner we leave."  
  
"I'll let you coordinate with Captain Harris, Lieutenant.  And...I've seen enough here.  I'm sorry for your loss," Stone said.  
  
Scotty nodded.  
  
"I'll see myself back to your transporter room.  Good day, gentlemen."  
  
"Good day, Sir," Scotty said to the commodore's disappearing back.  
  
When he was gone, the engineer went back to the biobed and leaned heavily against it.  
  
"What was that all about?" M'Benga asked, stepping into his line of sight.  
  
"This has all gotten out of hand.  The captain and Mr. Spock are safe now, at least until they're back onboard.  But if we find the survey party it won't matter.  We'll be able to warp out of here without any more interference from that...that desk commander," Scotty said, his eyes locked onto McCoy's face.  "And...I can't help but wonder...if lingering here is why Doctor McCoy got sick."  
  
M'Benga's eyes lit up with understanding, and he reached across the bed to lay a hand on the engineer's arm.  
  
"Mr. Scott.  This isn't your fault.  He probably already had the disease and it simply went undetected.  Something about this space simply caused it to act quickly."  
  
Scotty looked up at him, pursing his lips.  Then he looked back to McCoy's still face.  
  
"Will he regain consciousness?"  
  
M'Benga sighed heavily.  "No."  
  
Scotty straightened and backed a couple of steps away.  "Probably for the best.  Since we've no good news to tell him."

 

 

 


	13. The Mistake - part 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sulu," Uhura said, and he turned to look at her, "have you felt... That is, have you felt...strange, in the last day or so, since we've been here?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: We get new developments both shipboard and planetside in this chapter. Hope you enjoy!

 

 _I wish I could do something..._  
  
Spock's head snapped up from the meditation he had been attempting to enter.  
  
He and Kirk had taken up a position within sight of the entrance to the cave complex, and while they had seen a few of the aliens moving about there had yet been no sign of their people.  Almost four hours had passed and planet night was imminent.  
  
They had done little talking in the time they waited, alternating watch positions every hour to keep their bodies primed for anything that may befall them.  But now Spock clearly heard Kirk's voice...not as he usually heard it.  
  
He looked at Kirk, whose gaze was fixed on the cave entrance.  He hadn't reacted to Spock's sudden movement, but now flicked his eyes in his direction, sensing his gaze.  
  
"Something?" Kirk asked, his eyes going back to the cave.  
  
"No..." Spock said, looking back at the trees.  
  
It wasn't possible.  The damage had been severe, whatever it entailed.  And Kirk was not inherently telepathic.  Not to mention that Spock was only....half-Vulcan.  
  
M'Benga's pronouncement of the fact in sickbay had startled him.  Never in his life had he thought of himself as half-Vulcan, but as half-Human.  It was the latter part that was alien and detrimental, that caused him difficulty in every aspect of his life.  He was Vulcan, in every capacity.  If anyone had ever doubted it, his recent experience with his betrothed proved it more than anything else ever could.  
  
He had never considered the human part of himself dominant in any way, as M'Benga had implied.  That it could have an impact on his telepathy...  
  
He had always used his inherent telepathic abilities—as all Vulcans did—with no complications.  He even thought it further proof to those who doubted that he _was_ Vulcan, through and through.  
  
But did his human half in fact have an effect on his telepathy that he had never before considered?  Was it responsible for his lack of recovery from the incident with Kirk?  Was he in fact...missing a Vulcan part of himself?  
  
He couldn't know.  Not without deep telepathic examination on his home planet.  But one thing he was certain of—he had just heard Kirk's voice in his mind.  
  
He didn't dare hope for recovery.  
  
"Spock, listen!" Kirk hissed, and the Vulcan focused his attention on the environment.  
  
"A Federation shuttlecraft," he whispered, embarrassed at not having heard it first.  He clearly was unwell.  
  
The people in the cave heard it too, and they both looked on as several of the aliens gathered near the entrance and watched the skies.  
  
Above them a shuttle flew slowly over the area, shining spotlights.  Kirk and Spock both ducked lower despite the cover the trees brought them.  To be spotted would not help the people being held captive in the cave.  
  
"That's not one of ours..." Kirk murmured as it passed.  
  
"No...  It must be from the _Excalibur_."  
  
"Then they're helping in the search for the missing survey team."  
  
"Or," Spock said grimly, "they are searching for us."  
  
The shuttle gone, Kirk leaned back against his tree.  The light from the planet's sun was all but gone now.  
  
"Maybe a show of force would help," Kirk said absently.  
  
"We do not know the number of aliens in those caves.  We also do not know for certain that the survey party are also captives."  
  
"Maybe we should just walk in and ask what they want."  
  
Spock looked at him with narrowed eyes.  "Inadvisable."  
  
"I wasn't serious, Spock.  It's just...difficult, being so helpless."  
  
Spock thought again to the words he had heard in his mind.  He tried to think of some way to offer reassurance.  
  
"If Mr. Chekov is not successful in providing us with a communicator, we can be assured that Mr. Scott and apparently also Commodore Stone will increase the attempt to find us.  Help for our people will come, eventually."  
  
Kirk looked up at him sadly.  "'Eventually' may be too late."  
  
Spock turned to look at the cave, giving up on his attempt to meditate.  "For now, we must continue to hope in Mr. Chekov."

 

* * *

  
Night on the planet had fallen.  
  
Inside the cave, the twelve Starfleet crew sat huddled in a corner.  Four men with weapons had been stationed to guard them and Chekov hadn't yet seen a single opportunity for another escape.  Not to mention, all of their equipment was being examined by the aliens and he had no chance to reach it.  
  
His last attempt at communication had earned him another clock with the weapon, and another bruise on his face.  
  
"What about Chapel?" D'Amato whispered to him.  
  
He had learned from the rest of them that they had been surrounded and captured exactly as they had, with no explanations and barely any communication.  Their captivity by these aliens was a mystery.  
  
"What about her?" Chekov asked.  
  
"She could ask for her medical kit to treat you.  Maybe she could get away then.  Or at least start a dialogue with these people."  
  
"It...could work," Chekov said, thinking.  "But we should also create a distraction, to increase her chances."  
  
"They'll expect that," Leslie chimed in.  "I recommend trying to talk to them again, first.  It might make them think we won't try to escape again."  
  
Chekov looked at all the other faces in the group.  Lieutenants and crewmen alike, waiting for _him_ to make a decision, because he was a senior staff officer.  
  
"We'll try talking first.  But not me.  They have made it very clear they don't like anything I have to say," he said, carefully probing the newest injury to his jaw.  "Nurse Chapel."  
  
"Yes, Sir," she said as she shifted on her knees.  She had heard their conversation.  
  
"Try talking to the aliens.  See if you can find out what they want."  
  
Chapel looked over to where the aliens were congregated around their devices and sighed.  
  
"I'll do my best."  
  
She slowly stood to her feet, adjusting her skirt as she did.  "Excuse me!  Ro'tin, is it?" she called.  
  
The guards around them raised their weapons, and the group by the scanner all turned and looked at her.  
  
"I'm a nurse.  Can I have my medical kit to treat this man's injuries?"  
  
The one who had identified himself as Ro'tin scoffed and turned away.  "He'll be fine soon enough."  
  
Chapel looked at the others in confusion.  Chekov nodded, urging her on.  
  
"Will you at least tell us what we're all doing here?"  
  
"You're hostages.  Now be quiet," one of the guards said.  
  
Chapel merely folded her arms and continued to address the supposed leader.  "What use are hostages if you haven't made any contact with our ship?"  
  
The one called Ro'tin approached them then.  "The kelbonite interferes with our devices, just as it does yours.  Eventually, your ship will come down, and then we will have great use for you."  
  
"The ship isn't designed to come down," Chekov interrupted.  
  
Ro'tin smirked.  "Then one of the smaller craft we have seen overhead searching for you will eventually land.  Until one does, we will continue to take captive all members of your crew as leverage."  
  
"What exactly do you want?" Chapel said.  
  
"We have already told you," Ro'tin said, turning back to the scanners, "to leave this place."  
  
Chapel stayed where she was but called after him.  "How did you become trapped here?"  
  
Something in her question aroused the man's anger and he turned back in a fury.  "You will be silent!"  
  
"Now!" Chekov hissed, and the twelve _Enterprise_ crew leapt to their feet and began fighting the surprised aliens.  
  
Chapel, having heard earlier what Chekov intended, waited until the aliens were occupied with those actually resisting.  Then, she darted forward through the tumult for their equipment.  
  
Laying her hands on a communicator and phaser, she didn't even stop to see if she was being followed as she ran for the cave entrance, much harder to see now in the dark.  
  
"Stop that one!" she heard someone call behind her.  
  
The guards at the entrance had left their posts to fight off the others, and she had a clear path.  But once out into the night she had no direction to take.    
  
She ran forward blindly as she heard footsteps behind her, fumbling with the phaser and communicator.  And then suddenly a light at her back started to illuminate the way in front of her.  In moments, she would be recaptured.  
  
"Help!" she screamed, hoping that Spock, the captain, or anyone else would be close enough that her efforts wouldn't be in vain.    
  
The lights were getting closer, and faking a stumble she flung the communicator far from her into the forest even as she turned to fire.  
  
One of the aliens went down with her well-aimed shot, but another hit her just as accurately.  Her chest burned from the energy strike, and then she lost consciousness.  


* * *

  
"Help!" Chapel cried, and Kirk and Spock watched as she fell deliberately and expertly took down one of the aliens in the process.  However she was immediately rendered unconscious by fire from one of their weapons.  
  
"She threw something as she fell," Spock said, so quietly Kirk could barely hear him.  
  
They watched as the aliens shone their lights around the area.  They moved behind their large trees until the lights faded, and then watched the disappearing backs of the men as they carried Chapel back into the cave.  
  
"What did she—" Kirk said, but Spock stopped him with a raised hand.  
  
"I can hear, within the cave...  I believe Mr. Chekov launched some form of resistance."  
  
"It doesn't seem to have been successful," Kirk whispered.  
  
Spock closed his eyes and listened intently for another several minutes, but then shook his head slowly.  
  
"They are speaking too quietly now."  
  
"Did you hear any of what was said?"  
  
"Not specifically.  But I believe the aliens are angry."  
  
Kirk grimaced and lightly pounded his fist against a tree.  
  
"However, we may be able to assist them by finding whatever the nurse found necessary to throw away," Spock continued.  
  
"A communicator?" Kirk asked.  
  
"Most likely.  And I suggest we hurry.  If the aliens discover it is missing, no doubt they will search for it and us as well."  
  
Kirk looked at him grimly and rose, making for the thicket where Chapel had been headed.  Spock followed silently.  


* * *

  
"I thank you for your help, Captain," Scotty said to the man on the other side of the viewscreen.  
  
"At planet dawn, we'll resume the search on foot.  If we keep to the search grid, there shouldn't be any chance of anyone else becoming lost," Captain Harris said confidently, but with all seriousness.  
  
"Aye, Sir.  My security teams are ready."  
  
" _Excalibur_ out," Harris said with a nod, and the screen blurred back into a vision of the planet below.  
  
Scotty looked at his knees for a moment before straightening up.  The responsibility was starting to weigh on him, and he realized it wasn't all that shocking after all that McCoy had ended up sick with the amount of stress he had been under.  
  
"I have an errand in the transporter room.  Mr. Sulu, you have the conn."  
  
"Aye Sir," the younger man said as the engineer disappeared.  
  
There were a few minutes of silence after he left.  Sulu glanced at his controls a couple of times, but the ship was in synchronous orbit over the place where the landing party had disappeared.  
  
"Sulu," Uhura said, and he turned to look at her, "have you felt...  That is, have you felt...strange, in the last day or so, since we've been here?"  
  
Sulu's brow furrowed.  "Now that you mention it.  I feel like I have endless energy.  It's been hard sitting here on duty all day."  
  
Uhura nodded.  "That's exactly how I feel."  
  
"Me too, Sir," Gorou said from the science station.  
  
The others on the bridge intimated that they felt the same.  Sulu looked back at Uhura curiously.  
  
"Do you think we should tell sickbay?"  
  
"That we all feel great?  That doesn't make sense," she replied.  
  
"But it is unusual...  Perhaps we should make a report.  Maybe it will be useful somehow."  
  
"That's why I mentioned it.  I feel helpless sitting here, out of contact with the captain and the survey party missing over a day now," Uhura replied in frustration.  
  
"Make the report.  At least we have something else to study while we're stuck here."  


* * *

  
"You can't find the other one?" Scotty said worriedly.  
  
Kyle shook his head.  "They must have been well within the region affected by the kelbonite, Sir."  
  
"All right...  I'll have to send a landing party down to find it.  In the meantime, call someone from sickbay here to get this one.  I'll be on the bridge."  
  
"Aye, Sir," Kyle nodded as Scotty left the transporter room.  He pushed the comms button on his console.  "Transporter room to sickbay.  We've beamed up one antigrav gurney from the planet.  Please send someone to retrieve it."  
  
Scotty was only halfway down the corridor when the wall comm buzzed nearby, and he stopped to answer it.  
  
"Scott here," he said.  
  
"Mr. Scott," M'Benga's voice sounded, "please report to the biology lab."  
  
"On my way.  Scott out," he said, closing the channel.  
  
He continued on to the turbolift, this time ordering it to a deck he scarcely ever visited.  
  
As he watched the telltale passage of the decks shown by the lights, he wished not for the first time that day that he could escape to his quarters for a glass of something fiery.  
  
Suddenly, McCoy's words from that morning came back to him, and his jaw dropped in slow realization.  For the first time, he was truly experiencing the loneliness of command.  
  
As chief engineer he hadn't been able to make friends in the way he used to when he was only a junior officer, but he still had plenty of them across departments.  But now, amid the crisis, there was no one whose counsel he could seek.  No friend he could pour out his troubles to over a shared glass, and no one to take the load if it became too heavy.  
  
He understood more clearly now why his two commanding officers might have taken the risky action they had, and what that companionship could mean for two people utterly and completely alone.  
  
"It's not a safe job..." he muttered to himself as the lift doors opened, and he strode out in the direction of the ship's many science labs.  
  
If he was feeling the pressure from less than forty-eight hours of crisis, what must the captain and commander feel on a regular basis?  
  
"Doctor M'Benga," he said, upon entering the biology lab, "I'd like to talk with you about the psychological effects on a man of commanding a starship."  
  
"Mr. Scott, we think we've found something," the doctor changed the subject.  
  
Scotty slowed his approach and looked between M'Benga and the technicians surrounding a microscope.  
  
"I hope it's...good news?" he said cautiously.  
  
"I think so.  I received a report from the bridge not too long ago.  The department heads checked with every single member of the crew, and all but two people report feeling energetic and healthier than they've ever been.  And security also reports an increase in...fraternization among the crew."  
  
"What...?" Scotty said, not following the pattern.  
  
"Multiple couples have been caught in public areas showing rather too much affection.  They were sent on to their quarters of course."  
  
"I don't understand.  What's that to do with anything?"  
  
"It proves that something either in this space or around this planet is definitely affecting the crew.  Damaged tissues are being regenerated.  Birth defects are being reversed.  Even the aging process appears, slowly, to be reversing in the older crewmembers," M'Benga explained.  
  
Scotty thought a moment.  "You said two people didn't report feeling better?"  
  
"Yes.  Two people, who for their privacy I will keep anonymous, are in worsening states of health."  
  
"What's the common factor?"  
  
M'Benga gestured to the microscope.  "Take a look."  
  
"Och, Doctor.  I'm no biology expert."  
  
"Both of the crewmen are suffering from previously undiagnosed autoimmune disorders.  And Darnay's Disease, which Doctor McCoy is suffering from, is an autoimmune disorder."  
  
Scotty blinked.  "Will the other two die as well?"  
  
"Their conditions are also deteriorating, but not as rapidly.  Possibly because they are younger.  Since we don't know the cause of the regeneration in everyone else, we can't find a way to stop their conditions from worsening.  Unless..." M'Benga said, a light coming to his eyes.  
  
"Unless what?" Scotty asked.  
  
"Unless we remove them from this area of space.  Whatever is affecting everyone started here."  
  
Scotty crossed his arms and shook his head.  "We're not leaving until we've recovered all of the missing men."  
  
M'Benga turned to face him fully.  "You could be condemning two others to death by staying."  
  
Scotty's face twisted in indecision.  He paced a small line in front of the table.  "How soon until their conditions become fatal?"  
  
"They are being affected differently by the space we're in.  I'm not sure yet, but they're well enough to continue their duties."  
  
Scotty frowned and looked down for a moment, shaking his head.  
  
"Mr. Scott?"  
  
The engineer looked up again.  "I'll see what I can do about speeding up the search process."  
  
"Thank you Sir."  
  
"And...prepare a report on your findings and send it to the chief medical officer on the _Excalibur_.  They should be warned in case any of their crew are suffering from similar conditions to Doctor McCoy."  
  
"Right away, Mr. Scott."  
  
Scotty turned and left the biology lab, his eyes on the carpet as he strode back toward the turbolift.  Having to balance lives on the planet against lives on the ship was something he never thought he would have to do.  Command was a heavy burden indeed.  


* * *

  
"I've got it!" Kirk hissed, and Spock crept quietly to where Kirk was brushing off the communicator he'd found resting atop some fallen leaves.  He snapped it open.  "Kirk to—"  
  
Spock closed the communicator with one hand.  "I would advise against that, since the aliens may be scanning for outgoing signals."  
  
Kirk looked at his first officer in annoyance.  He'd been more assertive in his objections to his actions ever since the...mental linking problem began.  
  
"Besides, the kelbonite in the mountain will make it impossible for the ship to receive our signal.  We should begin our descent immediately."  
  
Kirk pursed his lips, but humbly let the annoyance fade.  "Your logic, as always, is inescapable."  
  
"It pleases me to hear you say so," Spock answered.  
  
Kirk looked up sharply.  The Vulcan's face was impassive, but his words were out of character.  
  
"Let's get moving, then.  If we're lucky, they won't start looking for the communicator until daylight."  
  
Together they began a cautious trek down the mountain, blind in the dark save for a few tricorder readings that kept them going in a general southerly direction back the way they had come.  Since they were now to all appearances cured of the mental link problem, it wouldn't matter if they were found by any search parties from either ship.  In fact, the help would be more than welcome.  
  
Kirk worried again about his friend and the effect that the loss of telepathy would have on him.  Of course, it might not be permanent.  But it was part of his identity.  And the Vulcan struggled enough with that as it was, Kirk had observed.  He thought that simply being a listening ear would be the best way to help, unless his friend showed any signs of withdrawal that he had on other emotionally taxing occasions.  
  
_I'll get you through this..._  
  
Spock heard the voice even more clearly this time, and stopped walking.  
  
Kirk turned to look at him.  
  
"What is it?" the green eyes reflected concern back at him in the dim starlight.  
  
Spock hesitated.  He hadn't dared hope, and yet...  
  
_Jim...?_  
  
Kirk gasped aloud.  
  
"Spock?" he said, and then closing his mouth:  _Spock?_  
  
The Vulcan's brows rose.  _I hear your voice in my mind.  Do you hear me?_  
  
_Yes_ , Kirk replied, grinning widely.  "Yes!  Spock!  Has your mind healed itself?"  
  
Spock shook his head.  "Unknown.  But clearly some of my telepathic abilities have returned."

Impulsively, Kirk stepped and gripped his friend's shoulders, grinning up at him through the darkness.  
  
_It does not cause you pain when we speak thus?_ Spock queried.  
  
Kirk shook his head.  _Not at all._  
  
_And...I feel...your happiness at my recovery.  And before, I felt your sadness that I was injured._  
  
"Spock...it's..." he stopped, and continued telepathically.  _It's almost like a mind meld._  
  
_Almost.  I cannot read your every thought as yet, assuming this link progresses._  
  
"We should continue down the mountain," Spock said aloud.  
  
Kirk turned and continued leading.  But now that he could speak silently with Spock again, he couldn't resist.  
  
_Is this the mental link M'Benga was talking about?_  
  
_Similar.  We should...be able to know more of one another's thoughts and feelings.  It is possible that whatever has caused the repairs to my mind will continue to strengthen the link._  
  
Kirk didn't know how well Spock could see in the dark, but he still threw a quick smile over his shoulder.  
  
_I'm glad we can talk like this again._  
  
There was silence from Spock, and Kirk felt his uncertainty—something he hadn't been able to do when there was damage to the link.  
  
_You...don't want us to be able to talk like this, all the time?_ Kirk cautioned a guess.  
  
_I am uncertain,_ Spock answered honestly.  _It is not something I had ever conceived of for myself.  A bond of this...depth, is almost unheard of on Vulcan._  
  
Spock could sense Kirk's hurt, and the cause, and he tried to find words to remedy it.  "Please understand Jim," he said aloud.  Kirk stopped and faced him.  "It is not a rejection of you, or of our friendship.  It is a lack of understanding of myself."  
  
Kirk looked into the dark eyes and slowly nodded.  "I understand..." he said.  
  
_But,_ the captain continued telepathically as he resumed walking, _you must admit there is a potential tactical advantage to this._  
  
_Possibly.  It could also be a distraction.  Unless we consciously shield one another from our thoughts._  
  
_Is that...something I can learn?  Since I'm not telepathic?_  
  
_You are already capable of profound mental control.  I do not think it unlikely._  
  
"Spock..." he paused again, looking back.  _If...we don't want this.  Can it be broken?_  
  
Spock nodded.  _By a skilled Vulcan healer, yes.  I have never heard of it being done in the modern era, however._  
  
Kirk tried to hide his feelings by putting others in their place, but found that even more confusing.  It seemed to confuse Spock as well, for the Vulcan laid a hand on his arm and looked at him curiously.  
  
"I guess...I'm a little overwhelmed.  It's...too new an experience for me to make an objective judgement on it, one way or the other.  But for right now...I'm glad for it."  
  
Spock nodded, and continued walking past Kirk.  
  
Kirk realized then he couldn't sense any of Spock's feelings.  
  
_Are you shielding your thoughts from me?_  
  
_Yes._  
  
Kirk's brow rose at the flat reply.  "Oh."  
  
They continued down the mountain in the dark.

 


End file.
